


Gay Aurors

by charlotteschaos



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, HP: EWE, M/M, Post-Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-09
Updated: 2013-07-09
Packaged: 2017-12-18 06:24:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 127,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/876635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charlotteschaos/pseuds/charlotteschaos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Episodic crackfic: Draco Malfoy mysteriously returns to London a badass and is partnered up with a very grumpy and very gay Harry Potter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Episode 1: Partners

**Author's Note:**

> This was written before the final book came out so there are a lot of inconsistencies with cannon. Think of it as AU.

The door slammed and Draco fled out, all in black against his white skin making him look like the walking dead. Under more romantic settings and had the outfit not appeared so militant, it might've been sexier. As it was, Draco was all hair and blotched face, sparing only a long glare for Harry as he headed past his cubicle to the one next to him that he inhabited. 

He'd spent the past couple of weeks there, listening to Harry and Ron make plans for when they became field Aurors, how they were going to rule London and trade off being Ministers of Magic. Draco had managed not to off the plebeians only through sheer force of will. But now it seemed that their dreams of being partnered were ended and Draco's dreams of working alone went down with it.

"Shacklebolt asks a word, Potter."

Message delivered, Draco turned back to his grey, barren desk and took his seat. He flipped open a copy of the Daily Prophet and began to read before Harry had a chance to even ask what it was about.

Irritated, Harry traded looks with Ron in the cubicle across from him and then headed to the Head Auror's office.

"Harry, it's good to see you. Have a seat."

Kingsley didn't stand when Harry entered the small office, but instead indicated the spot across his desk for him to sit. He looked back out of the door at Ron, shrugged and shut the door before taking a seat. 

"Thank you, sir." In spite of how little he was saying, he had a million questions about why Draco Malfoy was tromping around inside of the Ministry when he should be making his debut in Azkaban. Harry hoped that this was a discussion to inform him. 

"Let's get down to business, shall we? I know it's busy," said Kingsley as he closed a folder and set it aside. He steepled his fingers and leaned in. "As you know, Aurors often work with partners as well as alone..." 

"Right," said Harry. In spite of who had delivered the message, Harry refused to believe that this conversation was going to go where it seemed to be leading. 

"Right," said Kingsley, who looked distinctly uncomfortable. He lowered his eyes to his joined hands and let them drop to the top of his desk. "I realize that since the start of your Auror training and perhaps even before it that you and Ron Weasley have been paired up."

"As partners," Harry was quick to point out. 

Kingsley perked a brow, but made no further comment on Harry's peculiar sensitivity to phrasing. "As partners, sure."

"What's that supposed to mean? He's married!"

Clearing his throat, Kingsley continued. "The point is, I realize that you've planned to... be partners... with Weasley, but you're being assigned to Draco Malfoy."

It took Harry a moment to put those words together in a way that it would make sense. In fact, he'd had a rather hard time making sense of Draco Malfoy being an Auror at all. Now he was going to take over Ron's place as his (non-sexual) partner? 

"Excuse me?" Harry asked.

Kingsley gave Harry another long moment, and this time decided to speak slowly, in case he was having a hard time hearing. "You... are being assigned... to partner... with Draco Malfoy"

"I don't understand." Before Kingsley had another opportunity to speak to Harry like he was a moron, which he looked for all the world like he was about to do, Harry said, "I don't understand why you're assigning me to him." 

"Harry, there are many ways to look at this, but I want you to look at this as an opportunity."

"An opportunity? Are you fucking with me?" Harry jumped up so fast it knocked his chair over. Reflexively, he turned to grab it up to resettle it, but decided he was angry enough to leave it down. That's right, the chair is down. Take that, Shacklebolt. "An opportunity for what? To let Malfoy AK me from behind? You do realize we weren't exactly best mates before he faffed off to become a Death Eater, don't you? What is he even doing here? He should be in Azkaban, shouldn't he? He's a traitor!"

Unimpressed, Kingsley pulled his wand and brought the chair back up. He gave Harry the sort of hard stare that he did back in the Burrow during Order meetings when he felt that Harry's capslocky temper had gone past flamboyant. It was enough to make Harry shut up and sit like an obedient schoolboy.

"Aside from the activity in Hogwarts, which Severus Snape took the blame for, Draco Malfoy was not recorded at any of the skirmishes with the Death Eaters, nor has anyone testified to his presence beyond when his father was murdered," said Kingsley

"All right, so he joined the Death Eaters, daddy got killed and he quit. How does that make him an Auror? I wasn't given a pass on Auror training and I killed Voldemort!" Harry exclaimed.

Harry wasn't sure what outraged him most right now, that Draco Malfoy was to be his partner, or the reminder that he was given a pass on training. That he might be dangerously evil was... well, vexing as well, but Malfoy wasn't the only one who knew the power of the Killing Curse.

"Harry, I will only go over this with you one more time. You were not qualified to be an Auror. What you did was destroy Horcruxes and finally Voldemort. Much of what you did revolved around luck and research. It did not train you in many of the skills that Aurors are required to have."

"But Malfoy has those skills?" asked Harry sullenly.

Kingsley nodded. "Do you remember when we tested you after the war?"

Those memories were bitter, and he'd finished the tests feeling quite humbled and ready to take on the training. Maybe not as humbled as some might've liked, but at the time, he definitely understood the need for them. "Of course."

"Malfoy passed them all. He passed most of them wandlessly, I might add."

"That's not possible." Harry crossed his arms tightly around himself angrily. Draco Malfoy had never been that brilliant a student, although he always had been able to pull amazing feats of magic off when he needed to (which usually included arsing Harry off). 

"I wouldn't have thought so. Given his O.W.L.S. and general Malfoy had never been that promising at Hogwarts in anything aside from Potions. But now you see our dilemma, Harry. He refuses to say where he learned all of this, only that he wishes to do good work with it."

Harry scoffed.

Kingsley shrugged. "It's what he says he wants to do, and given the power that he has, we'd be fools not to take him up on it, if for no other reason than to have someone equally powerful keeping an eye on him."

Catching Kingsley's meaningful glance, Harry was chuffed that he was still considered powerful. Still, Malfoy's powers sounded intimidating. "I can't do that much magic wandlessly. You know that. Only the very basic summoning spells, doors opening, convenience spells and invisibility."

"You have the power to, Harry. We all know that. I've seen you in the field; you can bend magic to do what you need it to at the time. You have a lot more power in you. Maybe you could even learn from Malfoy."

Harry made a face. All of that buttering up only to end in his learning from that foul git. "Maybe."

"You'd be doing the Wizarding world a huge favor."

"Haven't I already?"

Kingsley smirked. "You'd be doing me a huge favor. I need you to do this. We need to find out who trained him to do all of that and what he might be up to. If he's truly here just to do good work, then so be it. He'll have the best partner in the department, someone who can keep up with him. If he isn't... you'll know, and you'll be in the position to stop him."

Harry's eyes glittered. The idea of being a hero again, this time on his own merits definitely had a huge appeal. If Draco Malfoy was going to try to be the next Dark Lord, then Harry Potter would be there to stop him.

"How did he do on the psychological profile?"

"Narcissist," Kingsley replied. 

"Naturally."

"Does this mean you'll do it?"

Harry nodded and sighed as he stood to shake Kingsley's hand to seal the deal. "Now I just have to explain this to Ron."

"Should I be prepared to send troops into the Leaky?"

Thinking, Harry said, "Wouldn't hurt."

\--

Ron leered blearily at Draco when he entered the pub, which caught Harry's attention enough that he turned and watched Draco move to a table in a well-lit corner of the bar. Though it was out of ear-shot Draco made no bones about staring right back at them and giving a smile and a finger wave that ended with his middle finger extended for their benefit.

"So Tonks for me, then," Ron groused. He was well into his third pint, which Harry wondered how he could get through since Leaky pints tasted as if it had been dragged through the Thames. 

"Least she knows what she's doing," Harry shot back as he glared at Draco, refusing to rise to his gesture goading.

Just as he had been dressed in the office, Draco was wearing Wizarding robes, but with frog closures. It wasn't terribly unusual; often Draco leaned towards mandarin collars when it came to formal wear in school, making him look like a vicar. Somehow, though, there was something different about Draco now. The clothing seemed more evocative, more authentic, more... put together.

"Beer. Another round, Tom," Ron said.

He was taking the news exceptionally well, Harry thought. But then, Harry had noticed Ron's more-than-occasional glance Tonks-ward before this detour. Harry hoped he wasn't going to cheat on Hermione. Again. 

Sometimes Harry wondered if Ron's excessive philandering wasn't because he couldn't get enough of women, but because what he really needed was a man. That was wishful thinking, perhaps. Harry had watched Ron from the sidelines for a while. He'd even experimented with girls, including Ron's sister. Sunlit days aside, the notion that he was living someone else's life was pretty accurate. 

Someone else's life.

Someone straight.

Definitely not Harry. 

Sure, he'd tried again after the war with Luna, who was about as far from a girl as you could get without actually... no, she wasn't anywhere near a boy, either. She was just Luna, and it didn't work much for him, either. So rather than make a total arse of himself, he threw himself in to Auror training and living vicariously through the telling of Ron's exploits. 

He thought about Ron sexually, but in spite of a few madcap and desperate spurts of hope (pun intended) he didn't see Ron really going there. 

Taking his fourth pint, Harry took a long sip of it, finding it bitter to taste, or maybe that was just his mood. Ron would move on with his new partner, probably bed her. Probably be kicked out of the Aurors for being inappropriate and he'd still be stuck with Malfoy.

Fucking Draco fucking Malfoy.

There was something peculiar about him, even before his disappearance. Something Harry thought he'd picked up on when he was watching him all of those months in their sixth year. Maybe Draco was just really, very focused on his job because of his parents, but Malfoy never seemed to be sexual at all. He'd spent all of that time in the Room of Requirement and he never once brought Pansy up there for a fantasy date. It never seemed to occur to him.

Maybe Malfoys reproduced asexually. 

Harry was just about to explore his genius theory with Ron when the small bar exploded in a flurry of hushed and not-so-hushed whispers.

Kirley Duke of the Weird Sisters had swaggered into the bar looking far less hairy than he had been a few years previous. He stopped, lowered his sunglasses and peered around the place. His gaze fixed on the dark corner where Draco sat, and he made his way there. Pulling out a chair, he turned it around, straddled it and sat down with Draco in a manner that seemed far more familiar to be a first meeting. 

Draco's trademark sneer was in place, his brow perked and pointy face attentive to what Kirley said to him. He flipped his hair back and his sneer broadened to what... would appear to be a dirty grin. He shook his head, now looking coy. 

Then, all at once, Kirley's hand whipped out and grabbed Draco by the front of his robes and it looked as if he'd mashed their faces together. 

Taking it as a threat, Harry jumped up and dashed over to the table. Ugly git or not, Draco was his partner and he wouldn't... stand for....

Harry lowered his wand, watching Kirley and Draco engaged in a rather passionate and... tongue-y kiss. He swallowed hard, and his lips parted as he gasped for breath. Though they didn't even stop to look at him, Harry excused himself and headed back to the bar where Ron, great friend that he was, attempted not to laugh. 

"Always took Malfoy for a ponce, didn't know it was literal, but... you all right there, mate?" Ron slapped Harry's back and dragged him to a stool. "I don't think he's going to be after your arse. Looks like he's got all he can handle there."

Not wanting to hear Ron's diatribe about how he always knew Malfoy was gay and a blow-by-blow explanation of each sign that he had at once discounted but now proved true, Harry finished his pint and ordered another one. 

The first attractive gay Wizard he'd met and it had to be fucking Draco fucking Malfoy.

Except he was an ugly git.

Right?

Right. 

\--

The next morning, Harry got to work early, and not just because he'd rubbed himself so raw thinking about the endless possibilities with Kirley Duke and Draco the night before that he couldn't possibly pull his pud any more. No, he came into work early so that he might take a peek at Draco's cubicle to see what he could deduce from it.

When he got there, however, he discovered a nearly manically clean cube. There wasn't even a picture frame to personalize it. He double-checked to make sure that it wasn't a vacant cube, but no, it was Draco Malfoy's workspace. 

Harry leaned against the cell opening, staring over the vast blankness of the grey countertop, wondering what that meant, if anything. Had Draco always been this obsessively clean through school? Come to think on it, he always did appear meticulously dressed in uniform and in day wear. He did shine his Inquisitorial Squad pin quite a bit, but Harry always had the idea it was more to show it off than for neatness sake. Perhaps he was wrong.

He'd just started off on another tangential thought about Draco and his love of pins when he nearly jumped out of his skin at Draco's voice.

"Did you come to see what an office not filled with detritus looks like?"

Obviously Draco scored off the charts in the "sneaking up on someone and scaring the peewaddle out of them" segment of Auror training. Not that that was exactly the official name for the section, but at the moment, Harry was too busy trying to find his peewaddle to know what the proper name was.

"I was... just coming to see you. But yes, your office is very clean. I guess when you get some files to put in, that it will looked more lived in."

Brushing past Harry, Draco simply said, "Pfft."

"Excuse me?"

"Pfft. It's a mouth noise that signifies disbelief or disgust. In this particular case, it means, 'I already have files, Potter, I just don't wallow in mud like a swine.'"

Harry carded his hand through his hair, still trying to recover his waddle. His pee was finally back with him, which was a good sign. It meant he was calming down. 

"I don't wallow in... there's no mud in the offices."

"It's an expression."

"Right, well... where are your files, then?"

Draco was seated already and paused to turn and stare incredulously at Harry for a moment. Then he sneered. Oh yes, the sneer was back, in full force. Harry knew now he was about to be treated to The Snark. 

He really had only himself to blame.

"Let me show you my invention, Potter. It's called... the filing cabinet."

"Malfoy..." Harry rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. 

It was too late-- far too late for Harry to stop the Sarcasm Express. Toot, toot and full speed ahead!

"Inside, we find what those of us in the industry call... say it with me... files." Draco pulled the cabinet open and splayed his hand over the perfectly color-coordinated filing system, alphabetized and sitting in order, waiting to be added to or pulled from on a whim. 

Hermione would come in her knickers. 

"Very nice, Malfoy. I think you missed your calling as Percy Weasley."

Draco slammed the file door shut. "At least I can find things when I need them."

Wincing at the thought of his leaning tower of files, Harry said, "I have a system. You may not understand it, but I find things when I need them."

"So you got the memo on the TPS reports?" Draco asked, daring him with his sultry smirk.

Sultry? 

Ugly. 

The color drained from Harry's face and he shot a panicked look to his cube. "I'm... sure that I have it."

Draco turned his back on Harry and shook his head. "No such thing. By the way, we have a meeting with Shacklebolt about our first case at half nine. Bring me a cuppa before then."

With that, Draco opened his filing cabinet again, pulled something from the region of the "N"'s and flipped the file open. 

When Harry began to vocalize a protest, he held his hand up to stop him and Harry felt an unseen force pushing him back out of his office and felt the uncontrollable urge to not speak. The idea of picking up a cuppa for Draco didn't seem like the worst idea, either.

Wandless magic. Right. 

Harry's interest was definitely piqued. By what and for what purpose was questionable, but one thing for certain: he was not going to get Draco tea.

Unless he happened to be getting one for himself.

Maybe not even then. 

Sneaky prick. 

\--

In Kingsley's office, sitting next to Draco, it suddenly seemed like the room was smaller. Or maybe Kingsley was just bigger. Or maybe Harry was just nervous about his first assignment and Draco made his pants feel tight. 

Kingsley walked around to the front of his desk and leaned against it, looking over the file with all due consideration and said, "For your first assignment, we will have you retrieving a kitten... from a tree."

Draco folded his arms and said, "Christ."

Surely that couldn't be all there was to it. 

"So a kitten? Is it a magical kitten?" asked Harry. 

Looking at him as if he were a bit slow, Kingsley again started sounding out words to Harry. "No, it is a kit-ten in a tree." 

"I didn't sign on to be shed on," Draco huffed as he picked imaginary lint from his dark robe. "It had better not be a white kitten."

"You can't be hampered by such travesties of feline habit, Malfoy. You're an Auror now. You'll have to learn to deal with set backs. But no, this isn't a simple kitten in a tree. The tree and kitten are locked in a cave," Kingsley said.

"So there's a cave... with a kitten... in a tree," said Draco.

"Yes," Kingsley assured him.

Draco appeared dubious. "How do you know the kitten hasn't climbed down?"

Kingsley looked surprised for a moment. "When do they ever?"

"Is it a magical cave?" Harry asked.

"Yes it is!" Kingsley answered with much more enthusiasm than was strictly necessary. Carnies don't have that kind of glee. "It is magically locked and there is no way in or out without magic. Which is why you two will be deployed."

"How do you know there's a kitten in the cave?" asked Draco.

"Because there was a report," Kingsley answered, poking his finger at the file.

"Who filed it?"

"Stop asking questions," Kingsley snapped. "You are to follow your orders and you will rescue the kitten and bring it back here."

"But it--"

"Go!"

\--

The story of how they got to the front of the cave in Wales isn't very interesting. It had too much to do with provided coordinates to Apparate to Swansea and a short walk that got them here. The reading of the instructions and the short walk were conducted with minimal bickering and otherwise just much silence. In other words, it wasn't very interesting.

They followed the precise number of steps, arriving at the precise time of day so that fewer Muggles might be around and evidently at a prime time that a kitten might be... in a cave stuck in a tree. None of this made sense to Draco, but clearly Harry knew about as much on the issue as he did, so there didn't seem much point in useless conversation-- especially given what he could tell was on the tip of Harry's tongue to ask about-- his association with Kirley Duke. 

He could've met somewhere more discreet, but Draco thought it would be a good idea to get his sexuality out of the way in a demonstrative manner. Draco was almost touched that Harry had come to his defense, but the awkward and almost fearful glances ended any ridiculous notions Draco had about being comfortable with his partner. 

Harry wasn't comfortable with it. That was fine; it was none of his business. It didn't change who he was or what he could do magically and he'd earn his respect.

While Harry was shielding the area from Muggle view, Draco ran his hands over the rock wall, feeling for any vibrations of magic that would tell him where the doors actually were. Settling on a spot, he drew the basic dimensions of the door with a piece of chalk and then stepped back. 

"I've never seen chalk magic before," said Harry, who gave him another slow once over.

Draco looked down at his dark robes, wondering if he'd picked up any lint or mud. It would seem not. "It's so that I know how far to cast my net. There's nothing special about the chalk."

"Still, a good tip. Where did you learn that?"

He was just about to answer. The way that Harry asked was so conversational that he'd thought he actually cared. But no, Draco needed to keep in mind what the Ministry thought of him if he was going to keep himself safe. "Grade school. Never played hopscotch?"

"They didn't let me out of my cupboard much."

Draco resisted the urge to look at Harry to see if he was kidding or not. "It wasn't that great." 

Concentrating on his fingertips, he managed a pale grey mist that focused into a beam. It lit up the chalk, telling Draco he'd done a good job at targeting the magic. Then, something somewhat unexpected happened.

Words appeared on the door in Welsh. 

" Hawdd yw dod mewn, annodd yw gadael."

"What does that mean?" asked Harry.

"I suppose it means 'Easy to enter. Difficult to leave.' Sounds like a girl." Draco smirked.

"Didn't think you knew anything about girls," Harry quipped back as he pointed his wand at the door. 

"Maybe I know so much I realized it was in my best interest to avoid them. What's you're excuse for bird fear, Potter?"

That subject was obviously out of bounds as instead of answering, Harry said, "Alohomora." 

True to the scrawling on the front of the doors, it proved very easy to get into the cave. The doors screeched with the dusty sound of sand against sand, rocks giving way and grumbling back. 

Inside were the typical accoutrements that came with a cave. Stalactites and stalagmites, some dripping water sounds, echoes of each movement and in the distance the sound of rushing water. And... a small, plaintive mew. 

As advertised, there was a rather large, gnarled tree that somehow managed to grow in a cave, but had lost all of its foliage. It was dark black with twisted, knotted limbs that curled around the small, white, fluffy kitten.

"Bad luck, white kitten," Draco grumbled.

"Don't tell me you're superstitious. You know there's nothing to that," said Harry as he headed for the tree. It wasn't all that tall, but it did move and make a low growling sound.

"No, it's just going to shed. I knew I should've learned more grooming charms."

"You seem to know plenty, Malfoy. You look very nice."

"You make me blush, Potter. Might I say that your jeans appear uncomfortably tight, but I appreciate the view they're allotting me." 

Draco was disappointed that Harry was facing the wrong direction for him to see the brilliant blush on his face, but he wagered it was well worth it anyway. He was just about to say so when he saw one of the limbs make a swipe at Harry.

Out of purely reactionary magic, Draco's wand went up and will met need and before he could utter the correct words, Harry skittered backwards into Draco's arms. "Get ready to catch," he said as he summoned the kitten from the tree. 

It must've been terribly traumatic for the kitten to fly from the tree into Harry's chest. At least, that's what Draco deduced given Harry's echoing screeches about being clawed in the chest by the ickle beastie. Potter torture AND no cat hair. A double score. 

"So, we just bring the cat to the--" Draco's words were cut off by the slow grinding of the doors sliding shut. 

Then a stone table started to rise from beneath them, in front of the doors. Draco sighed. "Right, difficult to get out. Reducto."

Sadly, the curse had no effect on the magical table other than to rebound it to Draco, who had to duck fast lest he be exploded. 

After creating a shield around himself, Draco attempted a few more hexes, all to no avail. Each one bounced off and now the kitten was starting to mewl so loudly that it was getting on his nerves. 

"Put the pussy down, Potter." Draco mentally patted himself on the back for his brilliant use of alliteration in a time of crisis. 

"Snowball will get away!" Harry complained.

"You named it?"

"Her."

"Who?"

"Her. Snowball. She's a girl. I checked."

"Oh, so while I was trying to get us the shit out of here, you were staring at animal genetalia and naming a cat, Potter?"

Harry shrugged. "I never had a pet. I grew up in a cupboard."

Draco had nothing to say to that and just stared petulantly at Harry. "Are you going to use that every time you cock up?"

"I'm not the one ducking curses I know are going to rebound. I just figured if we're going to be stuck in here forever, we might as well make friends." Harry set Snowball down and then created a small containment field that would keep her from getting loose in the cave. Or in the tree again. However that happened.

By the time he was done, Draco was at the table, tracing his fingers over fresh Welsh words carved into it. He filled in the carving with his chalk so he could read it. 

" Ar y ford hona, bydd diniweidrwydd deuol yn diweddu."

"Well, now we're really screwed," said Draco.

Harry tried to make heads or tails of what it said, but he didn't speak Welsh, so he could not tell yet in what way he was going to be screwed. Actually, he had a few ways he'd like to be, but it seemed silly to get his hopes up. 

"We don't have to eat the kitten, do we?"

Draco took a moment to stare at the kitten, trying to force it somehow into the picture of getting past this table. The mental images were not so good. No matter what, he was not screwing a cat.

"It says that 'upon that table, dual innocence will end' which basically means that two things must have their innocence ended, and I'm fairly certain that by innocence, they mean virginity, which means that... two virgins have to have sex on that table for us to get out."

Really, Harry could only speak for himself, but he could fulfill that part of it. But Draco... Draco Malfoy who left with Kirley Duke the night before... maybe that was why Draco was eyeing the kitten. Ew. 

Pushing himself up on the table, Draco noticed Harry watching the kitten and said, "Look, I am not shagging that kitten just because you're a slag. I wager the Ministry will be out and about to save us long before anyone has to resort to bestiality."

"You shag the kitten? I'll shag the kitten," Harry insisted.

"Not in front of me, you're not. Sicko!" Draco glared at Harry and then over at the kitten and back again, making a Very Disgusted Face.

"No, I mean... I could shag the kitten." 

"Okay, needle-dick sicko? Does that make you feel better?"

By now, Harry was brilliantly red with his inability to express this as succinctly as really should be. Maybe he just had a knee-jerk adverse reaction to telling Draco that he was still a virgin. But then, Draco had somewhat implied he was and maybe... they could get out of here.

"I mean, I'm a virgin, Malfoy. And the kitten would be a virgin, so there would be two virgins in the room." He kept his gaze on Draco's and watched the other man flinch.

"Mmm..one..too."

"What was that, Malfoy?" Hot on the heels of his humiliation, he wouldn't mind seeing Draco all puffed up and red. And naked. And... focus.

"I have yet to... have sex."

"But how? Kirley Duke...." asked Harry.

"Learning all that I can do took intense study. I didn't spend my time in a brothel, Harry, but somewhere quiet. Where I could concentrate. I..."

"Went to a monastery?"

"That's one way of putting it. The point is, there wasn't much sex going on and Kirley and I have just snogged a few times. I wasn't... well, when you've spent all of this time not doing it, I suppose I thought I'd just wait till I was ready and Potter.... I'm not ready. So we'll just wait for the Ministry to come and get us."

Harry jumped up on the table next to him and sat there, nodding. He understood about waiting, or at least he believed he did. "I thought I was going to die and didn't want any romantic entanglements. Then I just... didn't like anyone well enough to... and realized... I guess... some things about myself that..."

"Potter, shut up. I didn't ask about your sexual history. Nor do I care."

"Right. So. Waiting."

"Waiting," Draco agreed, kicking the heels of his boots on the table. 

"I mean... we've been waiting this long, so...."

"I'm not in a huge rush to lose my virginity. I've had loads of opportunities, mind. I'm waiting for a time when I feel something for someone that isn't mild annoyance," said Draco.

Harry nodded his understanding, but fuck if he wasn't already hard at the idea of just doing anything with another guy; even if it was fucking Draco fucking Malfoy. "It's just... well, it's our first assignment. Getting a kitten out of a tree shouldn't be that hard to accomplish. If they have to send out a squad to rescue us... it'll look really bad."

Draco looked at Harry, but his gaze dropped to the bulge in his clothing and he flexed his jaw a few times. "I'm not bottoming."

"What?" Harry tried not to sound as excited as he felt, but it sounded as if Draco was agreeing. Bottoming was going to be a problem, though.

"You have a point. We need to get out of here; it would look bad if we didn't. Especially since this assignment is... getting a fucking non-magical kitten out of a non-magical tree. So... bend over the table." Draco hopped off and started to disrobe. 

In all of Harry's fantasies, and of all the ways that he'd ever thought of sex with a man happening, he had never been on bottom. For all he knew, he'd enjoy it, but at the moment, all he could think about was the blind fear of Draco fucking him. Draco Malfoy of all people.

Harry likewise hopped off of the table and lifted his chin. "No, I'm going to top."

"I'm the stronger wizard here."

"No, you're not. You know some tricks, but I'm the one who killed Voldemort. I'm the one who went through Auror training and I'm the one who is going to fuck you."

Draco perked a brow and held his hand out. His expression didn't change, and Harry barely felt anything, but suddenly Harry's wand was hovering over Draco's open hand. Keeping his eyes locked on Harry's, he made it twirl.

"All right, so you're possibly more fun at parties than I am, Malfoy, but that doesn't make you the better wizard." Harry stepped forward and grabbed his wand back. He had to admit, that was impressive. No words, no wand, just the force of will. "What kind of monastery did you go to, exactly?"

"A really good one." 

"Maybe I should go," said Harry as he pocketed his wand. "Where is it?"

Draco's expression remained aggravatingly placid, although the light wavered over his face. "I'd tell you, but then you'd just run off and tell your friends and then it would spoil its exclusivity. You understand." 

Harry kept his eyes on Draco's, narrowing them. He wasn't particularly offended by the implication, and he would've been shocked and perhaps disappointed if Draco started spilling his guts at the smallest of goading. "So you'd go back?"

The flinch was nearly imperceptible, but Harry was sure it had happened. Mostly sure. He definitely had the impression that Draco would not be going back to wherever it was. Harry wanted to press-- he wanted to know if Draco was here to help or if he was here to hide-- but Draco's expression steeled over again, and Harry realized the effort of asking now would be wasted. 

They stared at each other in the strange cave, expressions fixed and nearly unblinking. The staring contest brought back memories of their childhood rivalry, leading Draco to believe that this was, indeed, rather childish. He wanted to make a good impression on the Ministry of Magic and Kingsley, although what was really starting to drive him crazy was his nearly painful erection. He could do this. How bad could it be? He just needed to get over himself.

Dropping his gaze, Harry said, "Fine. If you're too afraid to do it, I'll bottom." He turned and undid his buckle, his hands shaking a little so that it made it a little difficult to do. 

"What? What is that? Afraid? I'm not afraid of anything, Potter. Least of all of you or your tiny cock!" 

Tiny cock? Harry hadn't intended on using reverse psychology, but evidently his fancy monastery didn't include lessons on resisting that. Or perhaps Draco Malfoy still had some pretty big issues with cowardice. Harry was about to respond when Draco pushed him away from the table.

"I'm not letting you play martyr again, Potter. You're not the good partner. You're not the brave one all of the time. I'll do it."

Harry was going to protest, but Draco already had his robe off and his pale body gleamed against the dark table, his pale legs spread as he stretched out over the table. His skin was nearly flawless but for a few small freckles in the small of his back and the way it goose-fleshed in the cool air. 

Having never been confronted with so much skin all at once, Harry was caught out, mesmerized by Draco just standing there, waiting for him-- his muscles flexing as he shifted his weight from foot to foot. Harry slid his hand over the soft swell of his cheek and up over his lower back. He traced his finger from freckle to freckle; too gobsmacked to speak or to do anything sensible other than just let his trousers drop.

Draco moaned and brought his arms up to cover his face too late for Harry to miss the flush to his cheeks. "Potter... just do it."

"I just... it's my... first time, too. I just want to..." 

"Right. Fine." Draco looked over his shoulder at Harry for a moment, considering. 

Harry blushed and squeezed Draco's cheeks with both hands; feeling the warmth of his skin and enjoying how Draco pushed back against him for more attention. He was smiling to himself that perhaps Draco might even enjoy this when the cave lit up even brighter in a warm glow-- turning Draco's ethereally pale skin to an amber tone. When he looked up, he saw hundreds of white candles, floating throughout the cave. A soft patter of red rose petals then fluttered down over his head and over Draco's back. 

Wondering if this cave had been formerly owned by Jackie Collins, Harry noticed that Draco's visage was a portrait of concentration, he had one hand raised, his fingers splayed. Then he just looked tired until he caught Harry staring at him. Shyly, he turned his face away and hid it again. 

"It's beautiful," said Harry as he slid his thumb down the crack of Draco's arse. 

"If you aren't talking about the decorations, Potter, I don't want to know about it."

Clearing his throat, Harry decided not to answer. Instead, he pulled his wand and used an incantation to lubricate his fingers. It had often come in handy to know when he needed to release a bit of tension in the loo during school. It made things nicer. 

"You know... maybe I'll just... put the tip in, you know? Maybe that will be enough for the enchantment to break, and it won't really count," said Harry as he smoothed his fingers deeper between Draco's cheeks till they slowed over the wrinkled opening. He tested the tip of his finger into it and felt Draco tense against him.

"If it breaks the enchantment, then clearly we're both no longer virgins. I'm not sure how that wouldn't count," said Draco. His voice was tight and Harry watched the shiver that worked up Draco's back in a slither of rippling musculature.

"Right. Sorry. I just... I know this isn't... what you wanted." Harry slid a finger into him, finding it nearly impossible that he'd get his cock inside of him. Especially with the way that Draco hissed. 

"It's part of the job, Potter. Don't turn into a girl on me." Draco shifted and his breathing slowed. He folded his arms and rested his forehead on them. Harry felt the muscles around his finger relax and he slipped a second one in, deciding it was more pliable than it seemed at first.

"Sure. Wouldn't want me liking you or anything, right?" Harry wasn't sure how to feel about that. He was about to finally end his virginity. Sure, it was rather late in the game, and he was absolutely gagging for it. His cock was twitching to be inside of Draco, or just... touched in any way. It occurred to him that perhaps Draco would want his cock touched, but he wasn't sure if he should. 

Not giving an answer, Draco pushed back against Harry's fingers, pressing his arms into the table for leverage. Harry pulled his fingers from him and reached forward, tracing fingers over Draco's balls, just to see what he would do. 

Draco gasped and froze. Harry pulled his hand away momentarily so that he could reach around Draco's hip to touch him. It was the first cock he'd ever handled that wasn't his own. He didn't want to stop touching it, and Draco didn't seem inclined to tell him to stop. Harry wrapped his greased fingers around him completely, relishing in the warm, velvety feel of the skin that encased the warm stiffness of Draco's cock.

Leaning down, he kissed Draco's spine and pressed his chest against Draco's back, regretting that he had been too modest or in too much of a hurry to take off his shirt. Harry was surprised when Draco reached back behind him for Harry's cock. His soft fingers fluttered over it, exploring him just as curiously as he'd touched Draco's. But then his hand grew stronger around it and Draco directed the tip of his cock against his opening. 

Harry let out a choked noise, his cock pressed against Draco's slick, hot opening. He held Draco's cock tightly, his hand stilled on it and he rested his cheek against Draco's back. His other hand rested on the cold table and he pressed his lips together and leaned forward, letting Draco guide him deep inside of him. 

Harry had to catch his breath through his mouth as he felt suddenly engorged in clinging heat. He pulled back a little and pushed in again, feeling his heart flutter and hammer in his chest. It was almost surreal. He couldn't believe he was actually doing this; holding another man's cock while he was inside of him. Holding Draco's cock while he was inside of him. 

"Potter!" 

Realizing just how hard he was gripping Draco's cock, Harry let go of him and just wrapped his arms around Draco and clung to him. He was shaking violently, too overwrought with the tingly feeling that was overwhelming him, making his legs quake. Harry fought to control them, putting more weight on them as he pulled back and slid into him again. 

There was a soft click and then a loud gravely sound as the door opened again.

"Does it hurt?" Harry asked.

"I... no... sort of... it just... it feels.. weird."

"Do you want me to stop?" Harry didn't think he was going to last much longer anyway, but he certainly didn't want to hurt Draco any more than he had to-- especially since the door was open.

Draco didn't answer; he just pushed back against Harry, moving slowly; too slowly for Harry to get off on. The meaning was clear, however, and Harry could hear the soft slipping sound of skin on skin-- Draco was pulling himself off. 

Harry moved a few more times into Draco at a faster pace, but it didn't take much before his legs trembled again and the electric feeling that shot through his spine and tensed his cock to spew in long, pulsing releases into his partner as he clung to his sweaty back. 

Keeping his eyes closed, Harry rested there, feeling the frantic movement of Draco's arm as he continued to jerk himself off. It was thrilling to know what Draco was doing to himself under him, and had Harry found the energy, he would've moved so that he could watch. God, he wanted to watch. He started hardening again at just the thought, but he was pretty sure he couldn't count on Draco allowing him to fuck him again. 

After a few minutes, Draco tensed and slowed his movements, milking himself free of the last of his release. Then he lay there a moment, catching his breath. Harry took the stillness and silence as a good opportunity to get off of him. Spreading Draco's cheeks, he watched his glistening, soft cock slide out of Draco; fascinated by the way his skin stretched outwards, still gently clinging even as he was leaving him-- and the sticking strings of come that connected them for a brief moment before dropping, dribbling over the glossy skin of his inner cheeks. 

If Harry thought about that for too long, he'd get hard again. 

Instead, Harry shook his cock off and pulled up his boxers and trousers, turning to give Draco a moment of privacy to collect himself as he tucked his shirt in and straightened out his clothing. He wasn't sure what to say to him now. So he grabbed the napping kitten after ending the containment and petted it gently to soothe it.

When he turned around, he saw Draco rubbing at his eyes. His face was puffy and his eyes red and swollen. 

"Did I hurt you?" Harry crossed to him and reached out to touch his cheek.

Draco pulled away and sniffed. "Don't be stupid, Potter. Just... take the cat in. I'm... going home."

With that, Draco turned away from Harry, took a few steps out of the cave and Disapparated.

\--

The return to the office had been awkward. The other Aurors had just stared at Harry in shock as he headed to Kingsley's office with the squirming kitten. Perhaps they didn't know what it was he was returning, or maybe they thought that he'd just faffed off to adopt a cat. At the last minute, he thought that perhaps they were concerned that Draco wasn't with him, but he couldn't quite bear to explain why he'd gone home.

When he handed the kitten to Kingsley, he could've sworn that he'd paled-- an awkward thing to think about a black man. Kingsley seemed genuinely shocked and Harry blushed, not sure what to say about it. He must've known what Harry and Draco had to do to rescue the kitten. 

"Did... how did you get out?" Kingsley asked as he took the cat and examined it.

"Er... I did... Draco." Harry thrust his hands into his pockets and stared at the floor.

"So... Draco got you out of the cave?" Kingsley stared at Harry, his mouth open in shock.

Harry could've protested that he had something to do with it, as well, but decided that really, Draco had made the greater sacrifice, so he would give him credit. "Yes. Draco did it."

Kingsley sat down and nodded. "Right. Well. Send him in."

"He... erm... went home. He was really... tired after."

"I'd expect so. Well, then. Did you... find anything out about him yet?" Kingsley set the kitten on his desk. Pulling his wand, he tapped it and it turned into a paperweight familiar to Kingsley's desk. A paperweight? Why were they sent after a paperweight? 

Harry thought to protest, but everything had been so strange already and he just shook his head, deciding not to question it. "No. Not really. He said he trained at a monastery of sorts, but he didn't say it was a monastery, just that I could call it that if I wanted."

Kingsley nodded and took out Draco's file and scribbled some notes in code that Harry found indecipherable. "Good. Well. I'll see you tomorrow, then."

"I'll file my report then?" asked Harry.

"That won't be necessary for this assignment, Harry. Thank you." Kingsley gave him a wave that dismissed him and so Harry left, feeling odd about the whole thing.

No report? Kittens in trees that were paperweights?

Harry flopped into his chair in his cubicle and Ron joined him almost immediately. 

"What happened?" asked Ron as he leaned against the cubicle wall. He crossed his arms and stared down at Harry in shock. 

"First assignment." Something was very wrong. He was missing something big, and evidently Ron was in on it, too. It hurt a little to know that Ron knew and hadn't mentioned anything.

"Yes, the kitten in the tree assignment. Standard for new Aurors, evidently; unless you're partnered with an old-timer," Ron said, eyeing Harry up suspiciously. He shook his head, seeming to decide against something. 

"What? I don't understand."

"It's a prank, Harry. Four or five of the old timers go out and set up the cave, putting together hexes that can only be broken by an impossible task. Then you're sent out to catch a kitten from a tree as your assignment and you're forced to sweat it out and wait to be rescued because there's no way around it. Five Aurors set up those wards, Harry, and you and Malfoy got out."

A prank. It was a prank and they'd set it up for two virgins and... now everyone would know that he fucked Malfoy-- that he was gay and that they'd both been virgins. Harry cringed and wondered what Ron would say. He hadn't exactly... let him in on his attraction, but he supposed things would make sense to him now. "Oh."

"Malfoy got you through the wards of five Aurors, Harry. No one knows where he came from and he... well, Kingsley and the others are very concerned about how he got you two out of there. No one's every brought the kitten back before, Harry."

There was a very obvious answer for how they'd gotten out, but evidently, no one believed that. Harry's brows rose and he said, "The door said that two virgins having sex would get us out."

"Right. Is that what he did, Harry? Did he manage to conjure two virgins, then? It would make sense if he could outwit it, although... how you'd conjure virgins..."

"Erm..."

"Because otherwise you both would've had to have been virgins and shagged and we all know what a slag Malfoy was," Ron babbled.

"He was?"

"Well of course. Death Eater orgies and all of that. Plus he's dating a rock star. No way was he a virgin. Even if he was, you two would've had to have shagged, and you're not gay." 

You keep believing that, Ron. "Right, well, there you go. Malfoy's just a very powerful wizard," he said in defeat.

"Scary, yeah? Pub tonight?"

Harry whirled his chair around and decided to pretend like he was going to organize his files. "I'm kind of tired."

"Are you sure? I don't want to go home straightaway. You could tell me what Malfoy did."

Just thinking about what he and Malfoy did made him twinge in arousal. Besides, Ron seemed to be in denial of what might have taken place. "There's no way I could describe it. Maybe tomorrow night."

"Fine. I'll go with Tonks. Maybe she wants to talk to me more than you do."

"She's your partner," said Harry. He said it as evenly as possible, but the passive aggressive implication irked him. Normally, Harry had nothing better to do anyway, so he'd always go with Ron, knowing that often Ron just didn't want to go home to be fussed with Hermione's nagging or children screaming. It seemed like Ron had started to take that extra time for granted and had little patience for Harry's want of space. 

Besides, he was still irked that Ron hadn't given him heads up on what the kitten assignment actually was and furthermore he was starting to feel an edge of paranoia that Draco wasn't actually a virgin, but had used magic to make it seem so. The memory of Draco's tears made him feel ashamed of his suspicion. 

Also bothersome was the idea that no one believed that The Boy Who Lived could've blasted his way out of the cave. Had he cocked up Auror training so much that no one believed in him? That they'd rather believe in the power of Draco Malfoy? Sure, the wandless magic was impressive, but what else had he done that had made such a huge impression?

"Yes, she is. Fine. If you want to be that way, I'm going!" Ron snapped.

Harry startled at Ron's voice. He'd been so lost in thought that he'd forgotten that he was there. By the time he turned around, it was a moot point, as Ron had left in a huff. Harry sighed and shook his head. He'd deal with him another day. For now, he was going home.


	2. Episode 2: That Whore!

"You can both stop looking at me, because that's not going to happen," Draco snapped. His arms crossed over his chest. This time, he was in a dark plum robe buttoned up to this throat, which still made him look like a gothic queen, but he seemed happy with it.

Kingsley sat forward, "Look, we can't send Potter out there. The Johns would see his scar and know he's a bloke AND Harry Potter. It wouldn't work!"

Harry nodded in agreement. Of course, he felt that his manliness would be too hard to offset no matter what he wore, but he rightly deduced that making that point now would goad Draco into an even bigger wobbly.

"That's what concealer is for," said Draco. He held a hand out as if that would demonstrate his point.

Both Kingsley and Harry stared at his hand as if that might provide an answer and then looked back at him. "Concealer?" asked Harry.

Draco furrowed his brows and waved his hand in front of his own face, demonstrating where you might use concealer. "You know, to cover spots?"

"You had spots?" asked Harry, his eyes wide. "I knew your skin was too flawless to be real!" 

"This conversation is over!" Draco snapped as he jumped from his chair. 

Smirking, Harry extended his legs up to Kingsley's desk to prevent Draco from passing. "Did you have a lot of them?" 

"Shut up!" Draco grabbed Harry's feet and tried to shove them from the desk, but Harry would not be moved. "Move your legs before I hex them off!" 

"You had spots!" said Harry, giggling as he pulled his legs down.

Kingsley stood and reached across his desk to grab Draco's arm to keep him from leaving. "Look, your secret will go no further than this room, but you'll have to..." Kingsley gestured to the tiny white latex micro mini and bandeau whore outfit hanging like a strung glossy fish from the wire hanger on the wooden hat rack in the corner. 

Draco glared at it, and then glared at it. "Christ."

"Christine," said Harry as if he was being of any help. "I always thought you looked like a Christine. Don't you think he'd be a good Christine, Kingsley?"

Grabbing the outfit from the rack, Draco tucked it under his arm and huffed, "You can both go fuck yourselves."

"That's not very friendly," Harry teased.

Draco flew out off the office, slamming the door in Harry's face. 

\--

"I think you broke my nose," said Harry. 

"Good!" Draco whispered back.

Not that Draco could see him since he was standing under his Invisibility Cloak, but Harry was fingering his nose gently. It felt swollen. He wished Draco could see him to tell him whether it was swollen or not, but this was a stake out and he'd decided that he should stick close to Draco, just in case something happened and he needed help. Not that he was feeling protective at all.

Why would he feel protective? Just because Draco was standing there in impossibly tight, shiny white latex micro mini that cut off just below his well-defined abs and showed off his surprisingly long and shapely legs? As if he cared. Harry most definitely Did Not Care At All, because he Was Not Thinking About Fucking Draco or wishing that there were more Kittens In Cave Tree assignments. Why would he think about that? Other than... that was the only time he had sex and his past few forays into picking someone up at the Leaky had only ended in awkward blow jobs he didn't know how to give.

He didn't want to try out his technique on the barely-concealed cock dressing left in Draco's pants that showed all of his business, and the top barely covered his...wait a minute..."Draco, you're supposed to be a girl!"

Turning in the direction he'd heard the voice, but obviously not able to pinpoint it, Draco pursed his bright red lips and perked a plucked brow. His eyes looked exaggeratedly large with the dark, smoky shadow around it and his lashes were lengthened and brushed with mascara. Draco was passing so well for female it was almost a turn off. Almost.

"Potter, have you seen me wear make up to the office?"

"Do you still wear concealer?"

For not being able to see him, Draco had surprisingly good aim to pop Harry in the nose. 

"Ow!"

"Fuck off, Potter. Go further way. You're making me look like I'm talking to myself."

"And beating imaginary friends!" Harry took a couple of steps back, just in case Draco got smack down-y again. 

Draco was quiet for a minute as he glared out into the streets, but it didn't look like anyone was heading their way. "So you think I still look manly?" he asked, jutting his chin out proudly.

"Er. Well...." Maybe now wasn't the time for complete honesty. "That too. But mostly, erm... your pants."

Draco looked down at them and readjusted the silver belly chain. "Do they make my arse look big?" He peered over his shoulder, trying to look. "The mirror at the Ministry doesn't go down that low. Fucking Shacklebolt! It does, doesn't it?"

Harry gazed at Draco's arse. The nice thing about being invisible was that he could stare at it and drool without anyone actually seeing the drool. The way that Draco was pushing it out now so that he could see it... arching his back and... well, that was all quite distracting. He cleared his throat. "No, your arse looks... erm... fine."

"Thin? Not fat?"

"Erm... perfect."

Draco sighed and used his hand to fan himself. "Well, that's true. It is perfect. But white, you know. And this isn't the most flattering cut."

"Right." Harry ran his hand over his face, trying to collect his thoughts and focus on... what was he talking about? When Draco turned around, his eyes fixed on his cock which was just about to peek out of the top of the pants. "Your cock!"

"What?" Draco looked down and frowned. He pushed it down again, moving it so that it cut over his hip-- which didn't make it any less apparent, but not about to peek over the top. "Oh right, sorry."

"Shouldn't you... do something with that? Like... reduce it?" asked Harry, his voice high and tight with his attempt not to give away just how arousing it was watching Draco fiddling with himself. 

"I did. I reduced it as much as I could. It's just really big," said Draco, leering. 

It's not that big, I've held it. "Right, well, big as it is, can you tuck it back? I bet that's why you're not getting anyone hitting on you."

Draco looked up and down the street. "There's no one else here, Potter. I don't think this is the right corner." Sighing, Draco rested against the stone wall and shook his head. "This is utterly ridiculous anyway. Wizarding prostitution? Who cares? Let the Muggles handle prostitution."

"Wizards and witches are harder to prosecute. They use memory charms to get out of it. This is the only way to catch them," Harry pointed out. 

"Well so what if a few blokes are so hard up that they need to spend money to get some?"

Harry shifted. That was a little too close to home. "It's degrading."

"To whom? The worker or the spaz who can't get laid otherwise?" Draco looked down at his packed pecker and pushed his hand in to poke back his protruding prick. 

It made for a smoother line in Draco's pants, but a harder one in Harry's. "Degrading to the human spirit." 

Draco rolled his eyes. "Right. Well. I should probably stop talking to you. It's sure to be a tip off that I'm not alone." He shivered and wrapped his mesh-clad arms around himself. 

"Cold?"

Nodding, Draco looked down at the stilts he was meant to walk on. Clear platform boots didn't provide much ankle support. These were pretty crap working conditions. Draco balanced on one leg, reaching out to the wall to steady himself and rotated his ankle. 

Harry moved forward as much as he could, scooting in behind Draco with the idea of providing at least a little body warmth. Sighing, Draco leaned against Harry. Draco's hair was up off of his dainty neck, swept up in a perfect swirl on the back of his head. His hair smelled floral, but smoky. "Better?" asked Harry.

Draco nodded and relaxed against him. 

This was nice, having Draco here like this, their bodies fitting so comfortably together. To Harry, it was more than just sharing body heat in the midst of a chilly spring night. It was intimate-- even if he was invisible and Draco was dressed like a woman. He still smelled like Draco. Still felt like him. Harry was tempted to wrap his arms possessively around Draco's exposed midriff, to claim him for himself and the pimps and hoes could all just sod off. 

Sighing in bliss, Harry relaxed against the wall as Draco scanned the otherwise empty street. Lights illuminated the empty walkway in fuzzy yellow triangles-- useless spotlights that revealed nothing.

Draco's body tensed against Harry as a figure turned the corner. As the man approached, the lights caught the figure's balding head and his navy blue track suit. He looked like an ordinary Muggle, except no Muggles could get to this particular street. 

The mystery man stopped a few feet from them, or rather, a few feet from Draco. For a moment, he appeared ready to bolt, but Draco flashed him one of those pants-melting smiles and stuck out his hip to show off a lean leg.

"You on break?" the older gentleman asked.

"Oh yeah, just got so tiresome, you know?" Draco replied, waving his hand as if constant sex was just that tedious. 

The stranger peered up and down the street, appearing worried about being caught, and then said, "I'll see you inside. Find me."

Draco nodded and wriggled his fingers in a girlish wave. If Harry hadn't felt so jealous of the man's leering, he might've laughed that Draco had been so defensive a few hours earlier. 

Then the man turned to the alleyway a few feet from where they were standing. It was a pretty standard look as far as alleyways went-- its seam was filled with gutter water runoff that emptied in a few small grates and large, open dumpsters. It certainly looked, and smelled (thanks to the dumpsters), like a typical alley. However, after a few steps, their mystery man vanished completely. 

"Shit," Draco whispered.

Harry had to agree. Were there people back there? Had they been listening to them? Would they have even noticed? Was their cover already blown? From under his Invisibility cloak, Harry flourished his wand and cast a spell to see what was being obscured. 

What was revealed in the alleyway was disturbing. It was like a Bosch painting in miniature with various copulations going on along the stone walls; some in near-impossible positions. Heads bobbed, moans turned into shrieks, and the scent of sperm shot through with raw sewage filled the air. 

At least it appeared to have been magically sound and smell-proofed; although who could get off with all of that trash around was beyond Harry's comprehension. There was being dirty, and then there was unsanitary. 

Deciding to see what kind of magical field this was--obviously it wasn't extreme as the man had gotten in without so much as a magical scan, Harry stepped into the glimmering field that his de-obfuscation spell had highlighted. He was unseen so if he were bounced back, no loss. As it turned out, he was allowed through. The visible evidence of the barrier faded once Harry was inside.

Harry stood there for a moment, waiting for Draco to come inside. Realizing that Draco couldn't see whether he'd made it or not, Harry stuck his head out of the barrier and whispered, "Come on."

Without a word, Draco followed. 

Once they were past the barrier, a few people from the moaning orgy looked up from what they were doing to ogle instead Draco. Draco tried flirting with a few men, but after they gave him a cursory glimpse of interest, they looked away. 

Harry brushed against Draco's arm to let him know where he was.

"I'm too new. They probably don't trust me," Draco whispered. 

His breath was warm through the cloak and Harry wanted little more than to drag Draco off to someplace clean and do... well, any of these configurations would be nice. "They haven't seen you... with... anyone yet. It would be a risk to... you know... be the first."

"So you think I should fuck someone?" Draco shifted from platform boot to platform boot, chewing his bright red lip. A lock of curled platinum hair fell forward as he considered this. Then he looked up and around the alleyway, trying to decide who was the most tolerable to shag.

Something in Harry's chest ached at the idea of watching Draco shagging someone else. For all he knew, Draco had been shagging Kirley Duke all over his flat, but at least he hadn't had to witness it. He wasn't really sure why he should care, except that; maybe he was just attached to Draco because he was the first? Or because he was the only other gay man that he knew? 

Draco's jaw tensed and flexed a few times. His brow furrowed and he tipped his foot up and twisted his ankle, grinding his toe into the cement. Harry reached out to stroke Draco's rouged cheek, but pulled back when Draco turned on his toe and left the barrier.

Harry followed, trying to remain as quiet as he could, but Draco was walking fast, heading down the street. "Draco! Hang on!" Harry shouted. After a cursory glance up and down the empty street, knowing he was a fair distance from the alleyway now, he pulled his cloak off. He wasn't visible long before Draco was in his face, whispering in terse tones.

"Fuck someone? Are you serious? Which of those mouth breathers do you think I should let fuck me?" Draco huffed in indignation.

It was difficult not to look as relieved as he was, but Harry fancied that he managed it. "You shouldn't do it. We'll just tell the Ministry we didn't find anything." Harry barely resisted the urge to reach out to Draco again; he seemed rather upset and Harry couldn't blame him. Their second big assignment and Draco was being required to have sex again-- it had to make him feel like an actual whore. He was glad that Draco never found out that their first assignment was a prank. 

"Stuff that. I don't want to be sent out on more worthless clean and sweep missions to clear Muggle memories because some backwards lackwit Wizard couldn't keep his wand in his pocket. Memory removal was not why I signed on for this." Draco said as he straightened the back seam on his white fishnets. 

Harry tried very hard not to notice how shapely Draco's legs looked in the stockings. It was followed by the thought he also as not having about whether Malfoy was wearing kickers or not. "Why did you sign on for this?" 

"Truth, justice and the Wizarding way, of course!" said Draco, rolling his eyes. Draco's mouth opened again, the sharp look in his eye said that he was about to pop off with something else trite when he froze and then paled. 

"What's wrong?" Harry turned to see an attractive, middle-aged South-East Asian man, nattily dressed in a long-sleeved brown shirt and a pair of fitted jeans headed towards the alleyway. 

"I know that guy," said Draco, his voice fraught with something akin to quiet awe. "We should... get him."

"You mean to fuck?" asked Harry. He knew he had no right to ask Draco that; but he did anyway because otherwise it would bother him all night. 

"Er... no." said Draco distractedly, as he started to head back for the shielded alleyway. 

"But if you're going in there, you have to shag someone," Harry pointed out. He stood there, not sure if he could go in there to watch. Of course, Draco was his partner, and he had to back him up but... Harry worried that the South-East Asian man was more attractive than he was. Maybe he was someone Draco had wanted to shag before and now he had the chance! 

Draco stopped dead in his tracks and then he whirled around and shot Harry a meaningful glare. "Just do a simple charm, just enough to change you somewhat. Use what you learned in Concealment and Disguise."

What Harry learned in Concealment and Disguise was that he wasn't particularly good at Concealment and Disguise, which really didn't seem to matter if you had the might to blow things out of your way anyway. That ability didn't help this situation, sadly. Harry cursed himself for not being more adept at the subtler arts, but he would figure something out. "I can... try, but... why am I doing this, Malfoy?"

"Because I need someone to fuck me," said Draco, giving Harry a look that made him feel a little like a moron for asking. It would've made him bristle, except that he was going to fuck Draco now, which filled him with too much nervous excitement to be vexed.

"Right, I'll... erm... red hair and..." Harry said, touching his wand to his hair. "Blue eyes and... "

"Add a paunch and some freckles and you'll be Weasley," said Draco, wrinkling his nose. 

"What? Do you want me to look like Ron?" Instantly, Harry cursed even knowing Ron Weasley the philanderer. Ron probably would shag Draco, wouldn't he? It's just a hole, Harry. Just close your eyes or focus on the pretty blond hair 

Draco flicked Harry's nose and gave him a look. "Hurry!"

"Do you want to fuck Ron?" asked Harry as he concentrated on concealing his scar and changing his nose to something very un-Ron-ish. 

"Yes, I'm very hot for paunchy married men, how did you know?" asked Draco. He knocked Harry's wand out of the way and his hand ran through Harry's hair. It turned back from red to black and curtain-like on the sides of his face. 

Harry reached up to feel his lengthened nose and straight line of a mouth. "Wait, am I Snape?" 

"Christ, I don't know. I'm in a hurry here!" said Draco, but Harry couldn't help but notice Draco's smirk. He probably thought it was ironic, the little bastard. "We have to go!"

"!!!" said Harry, wondering what part of speech that was, exactly.

"I don't have time to change it," Draco snapped, although he still looked amused as he dragged Harry to the alleyway.

"I always knew you had a thing for Snape," Harry hissed along the way.

"I've no idea what you mean. Now shut up and solicit me already."

"Right now?" Harry only just now realized how Draco's features had been refined to be more feminine. His voice was even a bit higher. Somehow, Harry had managed to see through all of this up until this point. Now that he was looking at him seriously, he really was rather pretty... for a girl with a dick. 

"Er, point." Draco looked at the alleyway and then back at Harry.

No one was more surprised than Harry was that he'd made a point, but he decided it would be imprudent to say that he was just stalling to let his brain catch up with his bollocks. "Right, so... you see what I'm saying." 

"Yes, you stay here for about ten minutes and then meet me inside." Draco started for the alley, but Harry grabbed his arm.

"What if someone solicits you first?"

"If they're hot..." Draco yanked his arm away from Harry and rushed around the corner to let himself in. 

If they're hot... what? Pushing that question out of his mind, since he had to wait ten minutes to find out just what Draco would do with someone who was hot, Harry leaned against the wall, stroking his long nose and wondering if it would correlate to his cock. Not that anyone had ever complained about his size before. Not that too many people had seen it and could comment. 

Harry peered across the street at the weird, rundown buildings that housed daytime Wizarding shops of lesser popularity. The window of Duct Tape City was silvery with, well, duct tape, as it seemed a practical enough window display given what they sold. On the window, written with a bold, magical sharpie was the tagline, "Don't be fooled by competitors who sell duct tape by the foot! We price by the yard!" giving the impression that at one time, there had been many such duct tape specialty stores lining the boarded up street. 

A couple blocks down was a junkyard filled with disused magical items. While most of the portraits that might've been tempted to shriek had been silenced, it didn't stop the moving items-- such as chairs and tables, or really anything that had been anthropomorphically enchanted-- from chasing around the yard or setting fire to each other, or sudden flashes of brilliant explosion. Everything had to go somewhere, and it would seem that magical items needed their own landfill. 

The only store that was still open was across from the junkyard. Its flashing magical sign said it was a Potions store. Of course, reputable potions could be easily bought at the Apothecary on Diagon, and slightly less than reputable potions could be bought on Knockturn. On this street, the sort of potions that were available for sale included inexpensive potions that bent the mind and distracted from problems. They weren't illegal per se, but it wasn't the sort of store anyone would want to be caught in by someone he knew. 

This wasn't a street that Harry was terribly familiar with, but one of those potions about now sounded good. Especially if Draco were inside and... The idea of Draco letting someone else fuck him riled Harry up again, and he could feel the irritation mounting. What if Draco were letting that attractive guy fuck him when he went in? And why would he make Harry look like Snape? If he did even look like Snape. Harry had yet to work up the gumption to find a reflective surface to check.

Head full of steam, Harry decided that if he hadn't been musing for ten minutes, that it had certainly been long enough and that he was going in.

Inside of the alley, Draco was standing coyly against the wall. The attractive South-East Asian man was leering at him, but didn't appear to have any real desire to move as one of the prostitutes was working his cock over, her rootastic blonde head bobbing like mad. 

Catching Draco's eye after he'd managed to tear his eyes away from the vulgar scene, he crossed to Draco and yanked him from against the wall and growled, "I'm going to fuck you so hard."

Unimpressed, Draco whispered, "I think he might've recognised me. We should probably just go."

"I don't care what you want, bitch. You're here and I'm here with money and we're going to do it." Harry grabbed Draco by the waist and hoisted him up against the wall and pinned him there with his body weight. 

Draco hooked his legs around Harry's waist, but looked down at him with a confused expression. "I think I was made," Draco repeated.

Harry was too distracted by Draco's strong legs wrapped around his torso to listen. Made? Harry was certain that that was not the reason that bloke was leering so hard from at Draco that even Harry could feel it like a grope from across the alleyway. "You've got a job to do, so you'd bloody well better do it," Harry snapped as he reached under Draco to unfasten his trousers. 

"I suppose you have a point... He really isn't the main target of this and he's not our mission, but still..." Draco's eyes widened as Harry pressed his naked cock against his arse, prodding it forward as he tried to find the weak spot. Leaning in, Draco whispered, "Harry?"

After sliding the scant knickers Draco had on under his pushed-up skirt aside, Harry thrust the head of his cock in. It was dry and Draco hissed through his teeth. Even Harry found it a bit more on the pain side of pleasure, but at least now he had Draco's strict attention. Draco's face was bright red and he'd made the most delicious strangled yelp at the brief penetration before Harry pulled out.

"Wait!" Draco whispered, pressing both hands to Harry's shoulders in an attempt to push him away. "Lubrication."

"You're supposed to be a professional. Would you have asked your friend for lubrication?" Harry asked, rubbing his cock against Draco's arse again before penetrating him again. 

Closing his eyes, Draco exhaled slowly and murmured a lubrication spell as Harry pushed into him in a decisive roll of his hips. He twisted his fingers through Harry's hair and squeezed his thighs for security. 

Harry moaned blissfully as he moved with better ease inside of Draco, his cock surrounded by the rich, warm now-softness inside of him. "Yesss... take it you filthy whore." 

Draco gasped at Harry's words and his head fell against the wall as Harry pounded into him. He bobbed against the stone as Harry thrust faster and with more force.

That was what Draco deserved, to be fucked hard for being such the fucking prat to him, for holding out on him, for never telling Harry anything about how he felt about their fucking or letting him do it again until now. 

Slapping his hands against the stone wall for leverage, Harry rammed faster and harder into him. He loved how Draco clung to him and he loved watching his expressions contort between pain and ecstasy as Harry adjusted his hips, prodding around inside of him, feeling the thick, smooth muscular walls inside of Draco crushing around him, sucking and pulling at his cock. 

Harry's hands were getting sore against the wall. The friction was tearing skin from his palms and he could only imagine with this rough treatment was doing to Draco's back and his costume. He imagined the abrasions and watched the pain registering on Draco's face again, and took no small amount of pleasure from the idea that he was punishing Draco. He started to imagine turning Draco around and slapping his arse until it was blistered and red from the hitting, making Draco swear to never even imply that he would fuck someone else. 

Instead, he settled for moving his hands down under Draco's arse, supporting him as he squeezed Draco's muscular cheeks, feeling them move with each of Harry's thrusts. He sunk his nails into them, enjoying Draco's grunts and cooing and his complete inability to meet Harry's eyes as Draco pushed from the wall to lean on his shoulders so Draco could fuck back. 

"Tell me what you need. Tell me you need my cock, you dirty little slit," said Harry.

"Fuck... yes... I need your cock. God." Draco's cries were loud and too gaspy to be anything other than sincere. "Fuck me like that... yes. Right there," said Draco as he twisted his hips to the side so that Harry was entering him at a strange angle. 

Draco's arms were dividing time between trying to grab for purchase against the wall and grabbing onto Harry for dear life. Harry stared down at Draco's flexing torso, but his view of watching himself slide so easily into Draco was obscured by the front of the skirt that was down necessarily to keep anyone from seeing his cock. 

Harry wanted to finish this, needed to finish it, but he wanted to do it somewhere else. He wanted to finish fucking Draco at home, where he could see whatever he wanted to see on Draco, where he could remove the spells, where he could trick himself into thinking that Draco was letting him do this for any other reason than necessity. 

Evidently, the wards on the alleyway did more than just keep it invisible. Gathering Draco in his arms, he set his other hand in his jeans for his wand and tried to Apparate them to his home. Unfortunately it just bounced them back to where they were; a bit worse for wear. 

The move unbalanced Draco from the wall and Harry slipped out of him. Fortunately, Harry had enough of a grip on him that he didn't fall out of his skirt completely, but Draco did now have his feet back on the ground. Harry spun him around and pushed Draco against the wall. 

With one hand holding the front of his skirt down because he was gripping his cock through the vinyl, Harry pulled the back of Draco's skirt up and pushed into him again. Harry took some satisfaction in the torn skin on Draco's back and even more with how hard Draco was and how Draco started to cry out Harry's name, but stopped by biting his curled index finger.

"Yes, you're a nasty little bitch, aren't you? You like it when I fuck your ass?" asked Harry. He was heady with it and so close to coming that he was fucking Draco near mindlessly. 

"It's... extra... to... do that," Draco panted. 

"I don't care, bitch, you're mine." 

Squeezing Draco's cock hard as he felt his body tense up again, Harry stopped resisting the build up and let his body tremble out a long, hard orgasm, spewing his entire load into Draco as he grunted and gasped for air. Harry's cheek was pressed to Draco's and he could feel Draco still ramming his hips forward for friction against Harry's hand and the skirt. Harry hoped no one noticed that, but it became a non issue rather quickly as Draco managed to keep his orgasm quiet. Soon, he stilled against the wall and remained there, panting as Harry tried to gather his wits about him.

With little excuse to stay inside of Draco, he reticently pulled back and put himself back into his pants with little more than a quick cleaning charm. Harry fished around in his pocket for money to hand to Draco as Draco slid his hand over the front of his skirt, likely cleaning himself up.

Harry slapped the money into Draco's hand without meeting his eyes and quickly exited the alleyway orgy.

The rest of the night, Harry marveled at Draco's ability to talk the Johns into leaving the alley with him so that Harry could arrest them and Apparate them to the Ministry to processing. They didn't catch the man that Draco recognised; he was long gone by the time Harry had finished, but they managed to net ten unsuspecting clients, which they and the Ministry were quite pleased with. 

The next day they only worked a half day, coming in late only to work on their reports, which they did without much speaking, just confirming facts with one another to make sure they were saying the same thing. Harry didn't mention the strange South-East Asian man to Draco or in the reports, waiting for Draco to bring it up and explain. When the clock turned five, Draco neatly stacked his papers, set them in the proper folder and said the incantation that would file them with Kingsley and left. 

Harry was about to follow to ask him what was what, but was delayed by Ron, who invited him to The Leaky Cauldron. Deciding that it had been a while since he'd spent time with Ron and that Draco likely wasn't going to want to discuss the South-East Asian man now, Harry agreed to join Ron for a few drinks. He noticed that Tonks was doing a Very Good Job of Staying At Her Desk and not joining in. Harry perked a brow at this, but decided to let it go for now.

At the Leaky, Ron had made it halfway through a pint before asking, "So Malfoy says that he pulled a muscle from wearing those heels last night."

Harry sipped his pint and tried to keep quiet, not sure where Ron was going with this. What would he say if Ron finally figured it out? He reminded himself that Ron was his friend and would love him no matter what. Or Ron would ask Draco for a blowjob. "Yeah..." 

"D'you think it was the heels or did Duke wreck him after finding out where he'd been all night?" asked Ron, smirking impishly.

"Duke?" For a moment, Harry couldn't place the name. With all of the excitement of the case and the new man that had shown up in the alleyway, Harry had pushed Kirley Duke of The Weird Sisters out of his mind. "Oh, that guy? I don't think he's seeing him anymore. He never mentions him."

"Really? Goss page in Witch's Weekly had a picture of them snogging and an article about some poofty awards show that was honoring The Weird Sisters or sommat. Show was just a couple nights ago." Ron finished his pint and cued Tom for a refill.

Harry's heart sank and he just stared at the foamy top of his pint. Decisively, he grabbed it and drank the entire pint down and likewise signaled for another. The brew poured itself, filling his glass in a very satisfying manner. "Malfoy doesn't say much about his personal life. Did the article say anything about them?"

"Sparing you the details, eh? Fair 'nough. Don't wager you'd want to hear about his rectal activities anyway. Still, probably gives mean head, yeah?" Ron cheerily swigged down a quarter of his pint before he sobered with the seeming realization of Harry's mood. "Worried they'll think you're a poof with 'em? I'll be honest, the Weekly did make a slightly smart remark about 'Malfoy's Auror partner, the mysteriously still single Harry Potter' but you know how those journalists are. Anything to sell more papers." 

Ron slapping Harry's back didn't help much. Especially not now that he had the mental of Draco blowing Ron while Kirley plowed him. Harry finished his second pint and ordered a third. That Ron was so willfully ignoring his mysterious singleness was also vexing, but it wasn't breaking his heart like the news about Draco's social life was. "Right. Anything to sell papers." After a pause, while Harry thoughtfully drank half of his next pint, Harry asked, "Did Malfoy look happy?"

"What? Hey, you need to slow down there, mate. I've never seen you shotgunning pints like that."

"In the picture... with the snogging. Did Malfoy look happy?"

"I don't know, Harry. I guess he was about as happy as any bloke having half his face eaten off by another bloke is going to look? I couldn't exactly see his expression." 

Harry finished his pint and slammed it on the bar. He pushed up from the bar, feeling wobbly, but quite capable of handling himself. "Right. So. I take it you shagged Tonks?"

Ron flushed and shrugged. 

"Christ, Ron."

"Don't tell Hermione?" 

Shaking his head, Harry shrugged as well. "S'none of my business."

Ron stood with Harry and reached out an arm to steady him. "Narked?"

"No... I mean... not at you. Just... y'know... Malfoy." Harry didn't know what he was trying to say. It would be nice to be able to tell Ron what all happened. Really, he'd like to be able to talk it through with anyone, and it wasn't as if Ron had room to judge anything, philanderer that he was.

"Yeah, mate. S'alright. If he hits on you or whatever, you know I have your back. Sodomite tosser won't know what hit him," said Ron as he slapped Harry's back a few more times for good, manly measure. 

Harry clamped his mouth shut, feeling the frustration build to the point where he wanted to scream. Sodomite? Fuck if he could tell Ron now. "I think... I think I'm going to head home. It was a long night and... I'm tired."

"Right-o, mate. You don't look so good. Can you see yourself out? Fit bird across the way's eye-fucking me something fierce," said Ron, smirking and jabbing Harry's ribs. 

"Yeah. Don't worry. I can get home myself."

\--

Having collected Draco's address from Ministry files, it wasn't so hard to get to his flat. It was in a posh building, the sort you might expect Draco to occupy-- stodgy and buttoned up, with shining brass fixtures and a man at the door. Fortunately, when you were Harry Potter and an Auror, men at doors were easy to bypass. 

By the time the lift reached the proper floor, Harry had worked out his excuse: he would ask about the South-East Asian man in the alley way. He hadn't mentioned him in the reports and he wasn't sure if Draco had. It made perfect sense that he would ask Draco about it-- perhaps not at half eight while he was pissed, but it was a convenient enough excuse.

Ringing the door chime, Harry folded his arms and waited for the door to open. Much to his shock, Kirley Duke stood in the doorway giving him a curious look. 

"You're not the takeaway," said Kirley as he leaned against the door frame in that lazy, irritating way people who were entirely too cool for their own good often did. Harry wanted to punch him in the face for his smugness. 

"No. I... erm..." Harry pushed his glasses up his nose and looked around the hall trying to remember his convenient excuse. "Had a work-related question for Malfoy."

"Oh really?" The way Kirley drew out really made it sound as if he didn't at all believe that's why Harry was there, which made it very hard for Harry to control his blush, or his stuttering. Harry was just beginning to think that a well-placed hex was his only way out of this awkward situation when a door closed and Draco closed in behind Kirley. 

Draco was shirtless, sweaty and breathless, which was as hot as it was worrisome, but Kirley didn't appear particularly mussed, although his silk trying-too-hard shirt was wrinkled and unbuttoned to his belly. The hard noise of metal hitting the floor drew Harry's attention to the katana that Draco held from his body and set tip-down against the hardwood. 

"Potter."

"Malfoy." Years of rivalry made Draco's prompt so much easier to focus on without the stuttering, or without a gushing relief at the idea that Draco must have been practicing swordplay. A katana was a little out of the blue, but Harry wasn't going to argue with it.

"He says he wants to talk to you about work,," said Kirley, air quoting "about work" for unneeded emphasis. 

"I see." Draco's steely gaze remained on Harry for a moment, then he tossed the katana lightly into the air to hold it by the hilt so he could offer the handle to Kirley. "Sheathe this for me. I'll be right in."

Instead of being invited in, Draco was coming outside with Harry. While Harry appreciated the privacy, he felt slightly insulted that he was reduced to corridor conversation. 

"What did you wish to discuss, Potter?" asked Draco as he shut the door. Elaborate hand movements demonstrated his putting a shield around them both so they couldn't be heard. At least he was taking him seriously.

"Is he living with you?" asked Harry as he folded his arms, wishing he could remember his Convenient Excuse, but all he could think about was Kirley Duke in Draco's flat.

"I'm not sure that qualifies as Ministry business, Potter." Draco perked a brow and Harry thought he saw a hint of a smirk, but if it had been there, it vanished quickly. 

"He could be a security risk. Musicians, you know." 

"Riiiight," said Draco. His chin-length blond hair was pushed back with a thick, black hair band which he now used to blot the light film of sweat from his forehead. 

Harry tried not to notice how the chilly corridor had hardened Draco's nipples, or the two dribbles of sweat were making their way down Draco's thinly-muscled chest to his flat stomach, or the other trails of sweat that had already met their home in the waistband of his loose black drawstring trousers. 

"Potter?"

"Yes?"

"My face is up here." 

This time, Draco really was smirking, but it again went away in a flash. 

"Isn't that guy, like... old?" Harry finally managed, trying to keep from another blush at being caught leering at Draco. Fucking Draco knew he was attractive and knew what they'd done. He'd probably even sussed out that Harry was tipsy. What did he expect? "Like... thirty or something?"

"He is a few years older than me, yes. I would have thought the Ministry would have his age on record. Are you worried he might be lying about his age? Is that an Azkaban-worthy offense these days, or is it just such a slow day at the office they sent a drunken Auror out to inquire?"

"M'not pissed and... and you seem to know a lot of older, attractive men. Like... that South-East Asian guy last night!" Oh right! That was the excuse. Harry tried to conceal his revelation so that he could concentrate on Draco's reaction.

Draco paled, but managed to keep his cool. "Yes, well, you and the Ministry can rest easily. I am not living with any musicians or South-East Asian men, or any combination thereof. A friend simply decided to stop by to make sure I was eating since I had been out so late on business last night."

Harry exhaled slowly and shoved his hands in his pockets, feeling terribly ridiculous. "The Ministry is relieved."

"I'm sure it is. It should save them from having to send drunken Aurors out to fact-check." 

Deciding to ignore the snide tone, Harry said, "I... I wasn't sure whether... to mention that man... or not... is he important?" 

Draco pressed his lips together and squinted at Harry, weighing out his options. "He is important, but I wouldn't put him in your reports just yet."

"Why not?" Harry tilted his head and thought about all Kingsley had said about Draco. They really didn't know where he'd come from or where he'd gotten all of his training. Could he be trying to keep this man off of the Ministry's radar? But if he were trying to do that, it would have been stupid to try and take him in, which Draco seemed to have every intention of doing.

Again, Draco gave him that nearly-suspicious look, but then nodded as if making a decision he could live with. "Because the Ministry can be bought by powerful and wealthy people, and you don't want to give those sorts of people any hint that you're onto them until you're ready to spring."

Harry nodded slowly. Even inebriated, he understood what Draco was saying. If anyone aside from himself would know about how easily the Ministry could be infiltrated and bought off, it would be the son of Lucius Malfoy. It still didn't quite answer what side Draco was on, or certainly wouldn't answer it to Kingsley's liking, but Harry's gut told him that though Draco may be shady on some things, this wasn't one of them. "I'm trusting you on this."

Draco rested his hand on Harry's shoulder and squeezed, "Thank you."

Gazing into Draco's eyes, Harry watched him blink slowly, keeping the stare intently on him. Draco's lips parted and he moistened them. Harry was captivated by the movement of his tongue and by how close Draco's face was getting to his. He found himself watching Draco's lips purse as his head tilted automatically. Closing his eyes, Harry moved in to close the gap, the tip of his tongue just barely past his lips to swipe at Draco's when the lift chimed and the doors rolled open. 

All at once, he could no longer smell the heady scent of Draco's sweat, or feel the soft warmth of his breath. Instead, he felt the whoosh of magic as the shields came down and heard Draco getting the attention of the delivery boy.

Sighing, Harry opened his eyes and looked at the richly patterned rug beneath his feet and collected himself by focusing on the stench of stale cigarette smoke emanating from the delivery boy. 

After Draco had concluded his business and the delivery boy headed back down the hall, Draco said, "Right, well... I should be getting... I have... dinner. You could..." he gestured to the door to invite Harry in.

"That would be... erm... awkward. So... I should..." Harry gestured to the lift.

Draco nodded and avoided Harry's eyes and Harry couldn't help but curse himself for setting them back to square one. He just couldn't bear sitting across from Kirley Duke, wondering just what was going on there. 

"All right. See you tomorrow, Potter," said Draco as he opened his door. 

"Right. Tomorrow."

It was a lonely ride down in the lift, but Harry comforted himself that Draco had been about to kiss him. But this was a bad idea. They had to work together and he couldn't remain objective if he kept fucking Draco. As he left the kebab shop with his dinner for one, he swore to himself that he would Not Do That Again.


	3. Episode 3: Slash Camp

"Oh... oh God Angelina, your pussy is so wet and hot! It's just dripping for me, isn't it baby?" Jennifer groaned as her fingers dug deep into the hot molten wetness of Angelina's cunt. She sucked her tits hard, pulling back with a nipple between her teeth as she watched those bee-stung lips part with sheer bliss.

"Yes... fuck me... God... it feels so good! I've wanted it from you for so long!" Angelina cried. Her back arched into the eager mouth as she fucked Jennifer's hand ruthlessly. "I wore that cut off for you... I knew you'd love it!"

"Oh yes... I could see your pointy nipples poking through your top all day and all I could think about was wrapping my lips around those fine pointy nubs!" Jennifer whimpered as she worked her way down Angelina's body. 

"Wait!" said Angelina as her eyes widened and she looked around the barren cabin in paranoia after there was a low creak like a door opening to let a machete-wielding maniac in. 

"What?" Jennifer was drowsy with lust, and didn't seem to care about machetes or creaking doors.

"I thought I heard something..."

Jennifer stayed still for a moment, looking thoughtful as she listened for anything suspicious. "These places are old; they're always making machete-sounding noises."

"You're right." Angelina pushed Jennifer down against her sleeping bag and rolled on top of her. Crawling up her body with her knees straddling Jennifer, Angelina sat her cunt down on the warm wriggling tongue and screamed in pleasure. And screamed again. 

"Mm... you taste so good!" Jennifer fingered herself, moaning at the noises Angelina was making, and the noises she was driving her to make. She didn't need a man, she needed this; a warm hot cunt soaking warm juices into her mouth and over her face. She could feel it running down her throat and pooling on her chest and... 

Angelina was awfully quiet now, but as wet as she was, she must've come hard. 

"You come hard, baby?" asked Jennifer as she grabbed Angelina's hips and pushed her back so she could get up. 

It was hard to move her. She was like dead weight. There was coming and then there was coming. Jennifer was quite chuffed and was ready to say so when Angelina fell back onto her legs in a loud, hot slap, her body limp and wet. 

"Baby?"

Jennifer sat up to look down at her. Her eyes widened in terror at the machete still sticking out of her ribcage, blood washed over her chest and belly, and Angelina's blank-eyed stare. Then she heard the low, rumbling preternatural growl. 

She screamed in the screamingest way that screams might be screamed-- in that way that you might if your entrails were forcing their way up your esophagus thanks to the aid of a large, sharp object.

And everything went black.

\--

"What we need is two Aurors who are young in appearance to stake out the camp. We believe two capable wizards should be able to handle one psychotic machete wielding maniac, so it will be just the two of you," said Kingsley. He sat back in his chair and looked at the two Aurors before him. 

"Of course I see how Potter would work, he's built like a twelve-year-old boy," said Draco.

"You're skinnier than I am!" Harry protested, shifting his chair further away to increase the distance. He was not going to be goaded.

"I'm svelte!" Draco protested.

"We've chosen you two. It would seem that there won't need to be any acting involved. You have the manner of preteens down pat." Kingsley's lips twitched, possibly in an attempt to keep from smirking.

Draco was having none of it. "Yes, well I don't like the cut of your jib!"

"Yeah, your jib sucks!" Harry added, clueless.

Kingsley's face wrinkled and he looked between the two. "What, precisely, is a jib?" 

Harry shrugged and looked away.

"Nautical term for the front past of a ship. It's basically the ship's face. If you say that you don't like the cut of someone's jib, then you're saying you don't like the expression on their face," Draco explained. 

Sliding his hand over his face and then over his bald pate, Kingsley asked, sounding a bit hurt. "You don't like my face?"

"I don't like the way you were looking at me! It's one thing to call Potter an immature prat, everyone knows that. But I'm the pillar of proficiency!" Even Draco realized how ridiculous that sounded, and in his defense, he said, "Pfft! I have papers to file!" 

With that, Draco hopped up and stalked out of the office slamming the office door so hard that the frosted window pane rattled and Kingsley's coat rack rattled.

"I can get him if you want to finish," said Harry as he looked over his shoulder at the door. It had been a while since he'd had a chat with Kingsley about the spying he was supposed to be doing, and he'd left out big things in his reports, including exactly how they'd gotten out of Kitten Cave and how Draco had managed to get the Johns to accept him. 

As much as the Ministry wanted to believe that Draco was all-powerful, Harry had seen very little of this supposed dangerous black magic-- unless you counted the rose petals, which were tacky, but hardly punishable by law. Yet. 

"I can sense that you're holding things back from us, Harry. I realize that your trust for the Ministry is shaky at times, but I'd like to think that I've chosen the right man for the job," said Kingsley, staring so hard at Harry that he was grateful for the Occlumency lessons that weren't mind rape. 

"You did. I just don't know what to tell you. He's... rather good at covering his tracks, although I still think that perhaps you're underestimating how good Draco looked in those lace ups," Harry said, wincing at how he'd phrased that. 

Kingsley perked a brow. "No, we saw him. The concern is that perhaps he was using mind control wandlessly, in which case..."

"I've been able to shrug off even Veela powers of attractiveness since Hogwarts, sir. I'm hardly new at this. It's second nature to throw it off."

Exhaling, Kingsley nodded, looking a bit sad, as if this revelation wasn't actually what he wanted to hear, which caused Harry to wonder if he was hoping that he was under mind control.

"In any case," said Kingsley, breaking a long, introspective silence, "We'll need you both to kit up for camping. We're not risking any more civilians there, so it will just be you two at Grey's Backwoods Camping Site. This should also draw the machete-wielding maniac to you more quickly."

Sighing in resignation, Harry flopped back against the chair and said, "Right, so when are we going?"

"Friday," Kingsley answered, sitting up, seeming quite pleased with himself.

After a moment's thought and a quick consultation with the calendar on the wall, visible over Kingsley's shoulder, Harry asked, "Isn't that the thirteenth?" 

Kingsley turned around to consult the same calendar and pressed his finger onto the date and made an amused mouth noise. "So it is!"

"Fabulous," said Harry flatly.

\--

The camp was furnished with what might be charitably called cabins, but Draco more aptly named "pits of despair." Still, it was better than a cupboard, and had more spiders, which Draco found so unpleasant that he headed outside for a walk. Harry decided to unpack a few things, although he hadn't brought much, figuring the lure of it being Friday the thirteenth should be more than enough to lure a knife-wielding maniac out into the open after two teenagers. 

Not that they were really teenagers, but twenty-somethings. But the knife-wielding maniac would hardly know that so long as they were convincing as being young. Harry had been quite keen that a good way to achieve a good, youthful look was to dress them up in Catholic schoolboy uniforms. Draco said little about his costume, but had slipped into the shorts and tightened his tie, sneering at Harry. 

Harry reminded himself strongly that he was not going to shag Draco on this assignment. They'd actually accomplished a few stakeouts without sexing each other up and he was convinced now that perhaps that part of their partnership was over. The thought left him with an uneasy feeling of emptiness, but Draco had made it abundantly clear that He Was Not Interested by Not Bringing Up their almost-kiss in front of his flat. 

Though Harry had also failed to mention it was hardly the point. 

Once outside, Harry was surprised to see Draco sitting at the end of a small pier with a fishing pole that was obviously transfigured from a branch. Next to him was a paper plate with bits of hot dog broken, cut into perfectly even slices to be used as bait. 

"What are you doing?" Harry asked as he approached. Already, he regretted the stupidity of the question, as it was pretty obvious what Draco was doing and Draco was the sort of man who would take great pleasure in mocking.

As Draco murmured an incantation, the clear fishing line reeled itself up revealing an empty hook. "Feeding the fish, obviously." 

Emboldened at the lack of catty retort, Harry decided to take a seat next to him and taking note of how Draco had pulled off his sandals to drop his feet into the water, Harry removed his trainers and copied the action. The water was pleasantly cool and he fancied he could feel fish nibbling his toes, even though he could see his pale feet in the murky water and no fish. "What kind of fish are you trying to catch?"

"Not much here but carp." Draco said. 

"Should I ask how you would know that, or is it classified information?" Harry sat back on his hands as Draco placed another piece of hot dog on the end of his hook and cast the hook a few yards away from them. 

"I know all about London lakes and what is in them," said Draco.

His expression was hard to read, but Harry thought he caught a faint smirk. "Did you charm the water clear to see?"

Draco freed his smirk and shrugged. "Perhaps."

"So you're catching us dinner?"

Sighing as if he were burdened by the densest partner on the planet, Draco said, "You don't eat carp, Potter. It's too bony."

"So what do you do when you catch carp?" 

"I've no idea what I'd do if I caught one. There might be screaming." Draco cut eyes at Harry and he started to reel his line in.

"From you or the carp?" Harry teased back.

"That would be telling." The line came up empty again and Draco pushed another slice of hot dog onto the hook before casting the line out.

"So what do normal people do when they catch a carp?" Catching Draco's look, Harry added, "Aside from screaming, of course."

"If it's big enough, they might have it stuffed and mounted on their wall as a trophy." Draco peered out along the shoreline, for a moment looking pensive and distant.

Harry sat up, squinting along the line of shore, just to make sure that Draco hadn't spotted anything he'd missed, but it appeared just as it had a moment before. "Would you hang a fish on your wall?"

"Hardly."

"Know someone who does?" Harry wasn't sure why he was asking. Technically, he was supposed to be gathering information for the Ministry, but he hadn't exactly been telling them everything he knew, which was precious little, but still. There was something going on in Draco's head that made Harry again long to be a better Legilimens.

Draco's brows furrowed a moment, and then he turned his head to peer at Harry curiously. "Are we adding game fishers to the list of people the Ministry might have questions about in regards to who their Aurors socialize with?"

"You're dating a fisherman?" asked Harry, his eyes wide. Already he could feel the jealous knots in his stomach tightening. "I hate fish." 

There was laughter in Draco's voice, but to his credit, he didn't actually laugh out loud. "No, still just a musician."

"You're still seeing him?" Harry jumped up so fast that Draco dropped his pole and then glared up at Harry. "Has he moved in?" Harry snapped. 

Draco wandlessly summoned the pole back and snapped in irritation, "Yes and no."

"Yes, he moved in?" Harry asked, glaring down at Draco, feeling horridly betrayed and confused by the multitude of answers, forgetting that he'd asked two questions.

"No, he has not moved in, yes I am still seeing him," said Draco, returning the glare like a challenge.

"Are you shagging him?" Harry asked, immediately regretting the question as soon as he asked it. He wondered what he was hoping to accomplish with a question like that. Surely they hadn't been seeing each other this long and hadn't. 

Calmly, Draco pulled his feet out of the water, turning to the side so that his back was to Harry and shook them out. Releasing the magic on the pole, it turned back into a bent branch and Draco dropped it into the water. Then, he pushed up to stand up and pushed his feet into his sandals. Finally, Draco turned around and moved closer to Harry till they were practically nose-to-nose. "That is none of your concern, Potter." 

The tone could've been more hostile, Harry noted, but instead it was soft and even. Harry blinked, feeling a surge of electricity that Draco was so close-- close enough to kiss, and yet... Draco had side stepped him and was now heading to the cabin in long, non-committal strides. 

Harry exhaled and looked down at the old, grey wooden plank of the pier. Draco hadn't said no, and somehow, that hurt. Biting his bottom lip, Harry squeezed his eyes shut and tried to center himself. He had no right to ask Draco not to. It hurt, but it wasn't the end of the world. He took a few long, calming breaths, blanking out his mind.

All at once, a vision of Draco's face, flushed and panting with Kirley Duke's hands all over Draco's chest as he fucked him invaded his consciousness. Before he could control it, there was a loud crack and a branch fell into the lake, taking out the end of the pier. 

"FUCK!"

\--

If Draco had heard the commotion outside, he didn't say a word. He was sitting on the floor in the lotus position with incense burning. It was a stronger version of the way that Draco smelled when he passed and did little for Harry's frustration. Still, sitting there on the floor with his eyes closed his shirt off and his hair pushed back by that black band, Draco looked almost innocent. His hands lay open, palms up on his knees. 

"I'm going to make dinner, if that's all right," said Harry, nervous to fill the silence. Draco didn't speak, didn't move a muscle. Harry had needed a bit of a walk after he'd fixed the pier and by now it was starting to get dark. He wondered if Draco had been meditating this whole time. Secretly, Harry hoped he had, hoped that he'd disturbed Draco's irritating calm enough to force him to need hours and hours worth of meditation.

Those thoughts proved what Harry had suspected; the walk hadn't helped to clear his mind much. Again he tried to remind himself that he wasn't going to sleep with Draco again, so it didn't matter if he slept with his boyfriend. Draco hadn't exactly wanted Harry to start with, so it was ridiculous to feel rejected or betrayed. Draco Malfoy was Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter didn't need or want him. He was there to do his job just like Draco was, and that was the end of the story.

"So, right. Making dinner now," Harry babbled to fill the silence.

How Harry made dinner usually depended on his moods. He wasn't afraid to use magic or take short cuts, but at the moment, he wanted something to occupy his hands. Then again, they'd just brought cans of soup, which didn't take much work anyway. He wished he'd brought something more labor intensive now. Maybe he could've shown off the fact that he could cook. 

Then again, for all he knew, Draco was a five star chef along with being the sort of wizard who seemed to know everything and didn't need Ministry training. Still, he stirred the soup on the little electric stove that came with the cabin. At least stirring gave him something to do. 

This was better. This he could handle. Just stirring as it got darker in the cabin. Harry used his wand to turn on a couple of the lights, which gave the cabin a terribly unfriendly fluorescent glow that showed all of the chips in the glossy white paint in contrast to the dark wood accents around the window frames. Obvious cords stretched up to the ugly, exposed lighting fixtures. Something about it screamed abattoir, even though it couldn't have been the intent. Harry decided he'd seen one too many campground horror movies.

Hearing Draco move, Harry turned to see what he was doing, happy to have finally gotten his thoughts somewhere other than on Draco and sex. Such relief was short-lived as Draco's arse was up in the air, his legs straight and spread and his head down with his arms holding him up. Harry opened his mouth to comment, but then Draco moved one foot next to his hand and stretched out his leg. It took Harry mere moments to recognize that Draco was practicing yoga and not simply being a cruel bastard.

Perhaps he was doing both, but in Harry's estimation, Draco didn't need any further practice in being a cruel bastard.

Harry watched in awe for a few moments as Draco moved from position to position with a cat-like grace. His flexibility was as mesmerizing as the way his body managed to glisten, even under the harsh light of the cabin. Had his soup not started to smoke, Harry might've watched him all night.

"Did you warm enough for two?" asked Draco, straightening up and turning. His hands were up over his head and he brought one leg up, foot flat against his upper thigh. His hands lowered together, palms flat together as if in prayer.

"I think I burned enough for two," answered Harry sheepishly.

"Ah, well, never mind then." Draco's lazy grin was so cocky that Harry would've slapped him had he not been so charmed. 

Harry pulled his wand and banished the scalded soup and he opened two more cans, charmed them to empty into separate bowls and floated them to the tacky nod to 50s dinette furniture sporting broken laminate of faux marble on the top. "It's easy enough to fix."

Draco stretched onto his toes after completing the previous position in its inverse and then dropped his arms down and shook out. "Mmm, just like mum used to make."

As Draco sat down, Harry said, "I'm sorry I was asking about..."

Draco waved him off and shook his head. "I don't want to talk about it."

Nodding, Harry tried to think of something else to talk about. "So did you learn yoga at your monastery?" asked Harry.

"Hm... are you asking, or is the Ministry?" Draco shot back as he summoned spoons for them and tucked into his soup.

"Are you afraid that there's only one monastery that teaches yoga and your secret will be spoilt?" asked Harry who likewise started in on his soup, grinning at having restarted to banter.

"Perhaps." Draco did not look up at Harry, but instead stirred his soup before taking another bite. 

Harry noticed a small silvery ring around Draco's left pinky in the shape of a dragon coiled around him. It wasn't terribly unusual, as Draco's name would lead to dragon jewelry, but Harry couldn't remember if he'd seen it before. "I haven't told the Ministry about your Asian friend..."

"Japanese," Draco said. He gave Harry a curious and calculating look as he spoke, and didn't seem to notice or care that Harry had been staring at his hand.

"Japanese?" 

"I'm assuming that you're calling him Asian because you are not attuned to the visual differences between Asian faces. An Eskimo could be a Chinese person for all you know, right?" said Draco, keeping his eyes on Harry's. 

Harry got the feeling that he was being told something important, that he was being trusted, and he didn't want to spoil it by being defensive or dishonest. "Yes, although I also thought it was more politically correct."

Draco nodded, "It would be unless you happened to know."

"And now I do." It went unsaid that he wouldn't say anything further to the Ministry about that. "They asked me to watch you." 

"I flattered myself that you just liked me," said Draco. "But I figured as much. Why else assign me the one gay Auror on the force?"

"Right, well..." Harry thought to point out that no one seemed to think he was gay but Draco, but decided against it. If Draco truly was an enemy, it wouldn't do to have the other Aurors, including his best mate, looking stupid. "Some people think I'd be powerful enough to take you out should it become necessary."

Draco nodded and pushed the bowl away, sighing. "I wonder how many nights we're going to have to stay out here before someone tries to kill us." 

\--

Harry started at the sound of a baying wolf. They had been here for a couple of nights with nothing out of the ordinary happening. Just a lot of yoga and Harry wishing there was a less-than-conspicuous place to watch from where he could toss off at the way the yoga pants clung to Draco's muscular thighs and arse. He'd studiously avoided any questions about Kirley or Japanese men, though they were always on the tip of his tongue.

What it resulted in was a lot of silence, but an otherwise convivial living situation. Draco had offered several times to teach Harry yoga, but Harry said he was quite content to watch, which resulted in an impish grin from Draco. 

Now that he was awake, Harry debated a glass of water or whether he was just going to roll over and try to sleep again. He heard Draco stirring in the rickety cot on the other side of the room and turned his head to see the blurry Draco-shaped form of his partner sitting up. 

"Sorry, bed's loud," said Draco. He sounded nervous and for whatever reason, Harry thought about the way that Draco had looked at Fenrir Greyback that fateful night in Dumbledore's office. 

"Oh, no, it wasn't that. The wolf woke me," said Harry as he reached for his glasses. After he'd pushed them on, he made out Draco's anxious moonlit face staring out the window. 

"Me too," said Draco. His hair was askew, but came into control as Draco slid his fingers through it. Hair charms; not difficult, but most wizards weren't vain enough to employ them. "Full moon."

Harry carded his fingers through his hair in a mad attempt at making his hair a little neater, but he knew it was pretty hopeless. "Wolves can be pretty scary," Harry observed. It was true enough, but he didn't harbor any particular fear of them. In fact, the whole situation reminded him that he hadn't written to Remus in a while and he stared at the cheap cotton sheets wondering just what he'd say to him. 

"Pfft. They're just dogs." Prompted to stand by another mournful howl, Draco squinted out of the window, his nose all but pressed against it. "Sounds like a werewolf though, doesn't it? Did it sound like a werewolf to you?"

In truth, Harry had been too fixated on sussing out Draco to have been listening that carefully, but in retrospect, it could have been. "Maybe that's what happened to our knife-wielding maniac. He got eaten."

He regretted saying it the moment he saw Draco's terrified eyes and winced. "I'm sorry, Malfoy. That wasn't funny, was it?"

Draco let out an awkward, obviously forced laugh. "Of course it wasn't. Wit was never your strong suit." He crossed his arms and sniffed, trying to appear more irritated than afraid, but his eyes kept roving to the window. 

"I know loads of defense spells against werewolves, you know," said Harry as he scooted back on his cot. He patted the empty space, not sure if Draco would laugh in his face over it, but he did feel horrid for scaring him. "Between dealing with Bill and Remus... well, I'm quick with them, anyway. I won't let you get bitten."

"I've been bitten by every fucking other thing out here." Draco absently scratched his arm, looking once more out of the window and then back over to Harry and the cot. "You would've thought the Ministry would've looked into this and warned us. Or at least have sent us out with the proper apparatus to secure the cabin."

Draco looked at Harry and the cot again and then dropped his arms. Much to Harry's surprise, Draco clambered into it on his knees. He looked down at Harry for a moment, and then lay on his side, allowing Harry to spoon him. "Anyway, I don't need you to protect me. You're not half the wizard I am anymore."

"That's what I keep hearing," said Harry as he pushed Draco's hair to the side and out of his face. He wrapped an arm loosely over Draco's abdomen and curled in against him. Now that they'd been here together the past few days, Harry smelled like the incense as well, but there was still something distinctive about how Draco wore the scent, and the warmth of his body.

"You doubt it?" Draco drawled drowsily. 

"Not as such. It's just always been about what you do with the power, isn't it?" Harry whispered against Draco's neck. He felt Draco shiver and grinned at the goose bumps that prickled over Draco's skin. 

"I'm doing good things with my magic now," said Draco as he subtly wriggled back against Harry. "I'm a good guy now, didn't you notice?"

"Are you?" The question came out of Harry's mouth before he had a chance to really think about it. He froze the soft kisses he was placing on the back of Draco's neck, not sure what sort of response the question would elicit.

Instead of throwing a fit, Draco turned around in Harry's arms and gazed intently into his eyes. "You doubt me?" he asked, blinking slowly as his hand skimmed up over Harry's bare side. "You've definitely gotten smarter since school."

In retrospect, it should've narked Harry off and he should've thrown Draco out of the cot and possibly out of the cabin and run to the Ministry to tell them everything he knew. Instead, he grabbed Draco by the back of the neck and kissed him with punishing force, their bare chests mashed together as he curled a leg around Draco's to pull him in closer. 

Only Harry's boxers and Draco's sheer silk pyjama pants stood between them and Harry was about ready to tear even that away. Draco returned the kiss with as much force, if not more. His hand wound through Harry's dark, shaggy hair and tugged hard as he pushed his hips forward. Being poked by Draco's erection seemed to wake Harry up to what was going on.

Harry had sworn to himself that he wasn't going to do this again. He promised himself in the lift. 

"Stop. We can't... it's... we can't... stop!" Harry protested as Draco kissed over Harry's chin and sucked softly on his neck.

"What?" Draco asked. His face was lulled with lust, lips puffy from Harry biting them. "We've done it before."

"But that was because of the job; because we had to." The look on Draco's face was hard to read, somewhere between disappointment and hurt. Then it seemed to rally back to a sneer.

"That's what we're doing now," said Draco, his eyes shifty.

Harry wasn't sure if he was offended or if it was just best to play along. Then again, he was the one who stopped it. "We are? There's no... I mean... why would this... help us with a knife-wielding maniac?"

Draco slipped a hand down between them and deftly bypassed the little button on the front of Harry's flannel boxers. Though Harry realized that Draco stroking his shaft like this probably had more to do with Draco winning the argument than attraction, he couldn't really be arsed by details like that. "You've never seen those camp out movies? Knife-wielding maniac in the woods, hormonal teenagers distracted by sex? It lures the maniac out. That's why he hasn't come for us, yeah? So this is part of the job." 

"Right! That's brilliant," Harry whimpered as Draco took his cock full into his hand to stroke him harder. And maybe it was brilliant, not that Harry really cared any more. He jammed a hand down the front of Draco's pyjama pants to stroke his hand over Draco's cock. He hadn't really gotten to look at it either time before and he was quite anxious to now. 

Harry rolled on top of Draco and pulled away long enough to drag Draco's pants off, then he reached to his nightstand for a torch.

"Wait, no!" Draco gasped, reaching for it just a second too late. 

"What's wrong?" asked Harry. He was gazing down at Draco's bright pink erection resting against his abdomen, surrounded by dainty blond curls. As much as he knew he should look up at Draco's face, all he wanted to do was stare at this vulnerable part of Draco. 

"Don't... look at it... it's... you don't think it's...." Draco sat up on his elbows and Harry looked up, bringing the torchlight with him. Throwing his arm over his face, Draco huffed loudly. "Potter!"

"Oh, erm... sorry. What should I think about it?" he asked, realizing that this was definitely outside of job duties... if it was ever really about that anyway. "It's beautiful, Malfoy. Really."

"Beautiful?" Draco asked, still muffled by his arm over his face.

"Yes," said Harry. He leaned down to press a kiss over the glossy tip and then dragged his tongue along the shaft, reveling in the quieted moan Draco made. 

"Not... small?" 

"Erm... I'm not exactly an expert... but it looks... well...." Harry pulled his boxers off and straddled Draco so that he could rest his cock next to Draco's and shined the light on it. "See? It's about the same size as mine."

Draco pulled his arm away and sat up to look at the two aligned cocks. He stretched out his index finger to press across the tips and then to the base and tilted his head. "Well, you could be small, too."

"Thanks," Harry sighed, shaking his head. 

"I didn't mean..."

Harry was still looking at their cocks, but he could see enough of Draco's abdomen and chest to see that he was blushing bodily. "I know you didn't mean anything by it, but look, I don't really have anything else to compare to. So if we're both small, then it doesn't much matter, does it? At least not for me, as you're the only person I've done this with."

For a moment, Draco was quiet and Harry dreaded what was going to come out of his mouth next. Kirley Duke was probably huge and Harry was about to hear All About That. Instead, Draco said, "Me too."

"You've only done this with me?" It seemed obvious, but the obvious seemed too good to be true.

"Yeah," said Draco distractedly. He appeared mesmerized by their cocks lined up together and spat on his hand and wrapped it around both of them. 

"Has he... even... seen it?" asked Harry. He was caught by surprise by all of it, but was far too carried away in his fantasy and the bliss of the ridges of their cocks moving together and Draco's hand around them to think too hard about it aside from how arousing the idea was that only he had seen this. 

"No." 

Harry thoughtlessly shined the light at Draco's face, too distracted by the notion that this was all his, even still. "Has he touched it?"

"Potter!" Draco tried to knock the torch from Harry's hand, but Harry moved his hand back to fast, keeping the light trained on Draco's squinting, blushing face. "Is this an inquisition or are we going to fuck?"

"Are you evading the question?" Harry stuck his fingers in his mouth; taking the cue that Draco wanted this much, at least. Maybe it was because he just wanted to get the job done, but Harry didn't think so. Or maybe he just chose not to think so. He plunged his fingers into Draco, curling them forward as he watched Draco's face go from annoyed to a surprised pain. With the light shining on his face like this, he couldn't have seen what Harry was doing and Harry took some satisfaction in the look on his face.

Though the position was awkward, leaning forward like this as Draco pulled on them both with his wrist pinned between their bodies, watching Draco's struggling, flushed face while he fingered him made it well worth it. 

Inside of Draco felt strangely hot and weirdly dry. It was a small wonder that he wanted lubrication before. Pressing the torch into Draco's free hand, Harry grumbled, "Keep it on your face, I want to watch you taking me." 

Draco grunted disdain in response, but nevertheless took the light and rested it on his chest, holding it with his left hand so that it illuminated him in spooky shadows from beneath. Harry grabbed his wand and cast a lubrication spell to coat his fingers and he worked it deep into Draco. When he set his wand down, Harry scooted back on the bed, pulling his cock from Draco's grasp.

"What are--" Draco started, setting his hand on the bed so he could sit up on an elbow. The light was still lighting up his puzzled face. It took a moment for realization to dawn on his face as Harry breathed heavily over Draco's cock. When it did, Draco dropped back to the bed and stretched out his legs. 

"Hold the light up properly, or I won't do it," said Harry. To prove that he fully intended to follow through, Harry slid his tongue along the side of Draco's shaft.

In response, Draco picked up the light, nearly dropping it at the liquid warmth of Harry's tongue, but dutifully held it up so Harry could watch his face. Draco looked down at Harry even though he couldn't see anything, clearly enjoying the idea of giving him a show. 

Harry had never really done this before, although it seemed easy enough to understand how it worked. He'd been a bit worried about how Draco would taste, but he really didn't taste like anything, perhaps a little salty, but until he dragged his tongue over the tip, there was little to really taste. Feeling the moisture on his tongue, Harry pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth, trying to consider the texture, memorizing everything about it. It was slick and tasted mellow. It was livable, besides, the loud moans it was eliciting from Draco made whatever unpleasantness worth it.

Licking his lips, Harry opened his mouth, careful to cover his teeth and sucked the head of Draco's cock into his mouth. He could feel the heat of his blush on his cheeks. He was sucking his first cock. There was a cock in Harry Potter's mouth. He shuddered at how shocked people would be to see him like this, mouth wide, cock poking his cheek out as he fingered Draco Malfoy, drooling down the shaft as his hand worked at twisting the base of Draco's cock.

Harry pressed his elbows into Draco's thighs to pin him down, as Draco's writhing was threatening to lodge Draco down Harry's throat too hard. Harry concentrated on the feel of Draco's hard cock against the roof of his mouth, twisting his tongue over the shaft that filled him. He'd never really worked this hard to bring someone off before, and his chest felt tight with his heart racing at the exhilaration of Draco's thrashing and the loud protesting squeals of the cot springs. 

He looked up at Draco's shadowed torso flexing, his chest heaving and up to his face half-buried against the pillow with one arm up over Draco's head, hand in his own blond hair, tugging hard. Harry sucked harder, feeling the strain of Draco's body trying to force more of his cock into Harry's mouth. Draco's cock felt as if it were swelling inside of him, the walls of his sucking insides tightening around Harry's fingers as Draco cried out in a broken sob as Draco's thighs fought to close in around Harry.

He should've known what all of that would mean, but Harry was so lost in rutting madly against the bed that he missed it all and was caught by surprise at the flood of molten come that flooded his mouth. It tasted like the now-familiar saline-sweet scent and felt warm sliding down his throat as he swallowed as much as he could before it spilled out over his lips, down his chin and onto the bed. 

Somewhere along the line, Draco had dropped the torch, which was just as well; as Harry wasn't sure he could look at him right now. As much as he wanted to get the come off of his face, his he ached to be inside of Draco, to fill him, to reap the reward for how humiliated he was with seed dribbling down his neck. 

Harry crawled up Draco's spent, panting form and he slid into him easily, fitting so warmly inside of him in spite of their jutting bones and hard muscles coming together. He dug his arms under Draco and clung tightly to him as he moved in and out of him. He kept his eyes squeezed tightly shut and was about to hide his face against Draco's neck when he felt Draco's hands cup his face. 

He started to protest Draco not mock him with come on his face when he felt the soft press of lips and tongue wicking away the sperm from his throat, up his chin and to the corners of his mouth. Harry melted into the soft kisses, tilting his head back and then leaning forward, preparing to kiss Draco back, wanting to share the taste of him, to really show him how he felt. 

The onslaught of emotions overtook him before he could get their lips into place and he gasped and shuddered against Draco's mouth, his balls and body going rigid before he released into Draco, clinging and practically sobbing in frustration of not being able to reach out to him... to connect in that most intimate moment.

Opening his eyes to gaze down at Draco's sweat-stained, sated face, Harry took a deep breath, deciding that though it was horrid timing to fuck someone and then declare feelings he was going to do it anyway, he said, "Draco..."

All at once, Harry found himself on the floor of the cabin staring up at a large, hairy figure holding a machete that caught the torchlight. 

"Stupefy!" Draco shouted. A red light hit the figure, which slowed it, but didn't stop it. 

Harry turned to see Draco standing on the cot, pressed against the wall. In the middle of the cot was a huge, dangerous-looking machete gash. Grabbing his wand, Harry tried to cast another stunning spell on the beast-man, but to no avail. He had no idea of he was missing, or what. All he could hear was the shrill sound of metal connecting with the wall and a few hard slaps of kicks and punches connecting. "Lumos!" Harry shouted, deciding casting light on the situation might help.

The room filled with magical light revealing Draco pressed against the wall with a hairy hand wrapped around his throat. Both of Draco's hands were engaged around the killer's wrist, keeping the machete from stabbing him in the chest. The killer turned his shaggy head to glare and growl at Harry. He licked his chops as his golden eyes fixed and narrowed on Harry's forehead. "You're next, Potter." 

"Greyback?" Well, that at least explained why the spells didn't have any effect; magic didn't work on magical creatures. "I thought you were dead."

"Dogs have nine lives," said Greyback before Draco landed a vicious kick to his stomach, sending him sprawling backwards. The machete dropped from his hand with a loud clang.

"That's cats, you twatwaffle," Draco rasped, rubbing his throat with his right hand as he stretched out his left. 

Before anyone could ask what exactly a twatwaffle was, Draco's silver dragon pinky ring shot from his hand, gaining size and ground till it was large like a more tangible Patronus. It curled around Greyback, pinning him to the floor. 

Harry lowered his wand and looked around the room in confusion. "I don't understand, what are you doing hereat a campground?"

"You know how I love children, Potter," said Greyback, licking his chops. 

"Didn't you say that to Dumbledore at Hogwarts, Greyback?" asked Draco as he hopped down from the bed and grabbed his shirt from the floor to cover himself with.

"Just goes to show you can't teach an old dog new quips," Harry retorted, sparkling that he'd made a brilliant pun.

The room fell silent.

Harry huffed. "Well I thought it was funny, anyway." 

Harry raised his brows and then shrugged. "But I don't get it. You liked biting children, and now you just... chop them up?"

Greyback sighed and wriggled against the transfigured ring that had effectively slowed him down. "Well, yes, but then there were so many werewolves running about, it was hard to feel special anymore. At a certain point, your pack gets to be too much." 

"So you're the lone wolf type?" asked Harry, grinning and nodding at his own wittiness again.

Draco rolled his eyes, but grinned affectionately before he threw Harry's boxers at him. "Get dressed, funny man."

Missing it entirely, Greyback said, "You could say that."

"Why a machete?" asked Draco as he summoned it into the air and encased it in a magical binding labeled 'Evidence.'

"Saw it in a movie once, back when I was prowling theaters to bite oversexed teenagers." He paused and looked between the two and shrugged. "After the war, I'd managed to embezzle enough to buy myself some prowling ground here and brought my pack out to retire."

"What happened to your pack?" asked Harry as he pulled on the rest of his clothing, and started to make notes for his report.

"Got bored and ate them. I'm not very good at retirement." 

Draco finished clothing himself and was making magical imprints around the cabin for the trial. 

Harry watched him longingly for a moment, but now wasn't the time. He couldn't say what he wanted to say in front of a perpetrator, Greyback in particular.

"So what's going on between you two? Last I saw you both, you were hardly... well, fine line between love and hate?" asked Greyback.

For a moment, Harry thought about answering, but Draco cut him off. "Strictly business. We'd been in this cabin for a few days and you hadn't shown."

"Ah, right." Greyback appeared dubious, but left it. "The scent of sex," he said, sniffing the air, "calls to me."

"Yes, well, there you go. It was part of the job. I suppose it's good that you'd gone the machete route, as I recall last I saw you, you found me too old to bite," said Draco as he summoned their personal effects into a bag. 

Greyback laughed in a mirthless, maniacal way that sent chills up Harry's spine. He'd forgotten how frightening the man-beast could be. "Last I saw you, you were crying like a bitch over your mummy-- rmf!" 

"You need a fucking muzzle." 

Before Harry could move, the dragon's tail was stuffed into Greyback's mouth. His mouth foamed at the contact of silver inside of him. Harry looked up at Draco's eyes; his hand was spread out, his eyes shining with a vicious mania. His body was rigid and there was a haze of dark magic around him like a shimmering net, Harry could feel the rage radiating off of him. Lest Harry forget, the Ministry had him watching Draco for a reason. "Malfoy!"

Draco's fingers curled forward and Greyback started to gag, his eyes rolling back in his head. Greyback convulsed, being tortured by the burn of the silver. The dragon's claws were out and sinking into Greyback's skin and Draco showed no sign at all of stopping.

"Stupe--!" Harry was cut off by a wave of Draco's other hand, silencing him as his wand was knocked from his hand. 

"Malfoy!" Harry mouthed, unable to speak. He lunged at Draco, but was stopped mid-air with another wave of Draco's hand. Harry kicked and struggled, not sure what he would do or say if Draco killed Greyback. Certainly Greyback deserved a horrid, gory death for his war crimes and pedophilic biting alone, but Harry wouldn't stand idly by and let it happen.

He stared hard at Draco's face, at the determined and dark expression, the way his eyes seemed to glaze over in sheer hatred, his jaw flexing. Harry willed him to look at him, to just look at him for one moment. Maybe he should've been afraid for himself, but somehow he knew that even in his madness, Draco wouldn't hurt him. 

Draco turned his head to look at Harry's flailing and their gazes locked. 

I'm scared, Draco. You're scaring me. Harry thought the words so intensely, he thought he might well be broadcasting it.

Draco's gaze lowered and with it, Harry was dropped gently to the ground and the dragon released its claws, and its tail slid from Greyback's mouth. Greyback had long since passed out and his bodyweight dragged him to lay flat on the floor. 

Harry crossed to Draco, who suddenly appeared wobbly and weak. He took him up in his arms and found his voice along with his ability to move. "What happened? You looked possessed."

Draco looked up lazily at Harry, and opened his mouth to say something, but his eyes rolled back and went completely limp. 

Something told Harry that taking Draco to St. Mungo's would be a very bad idea, so instead, he summoned the waiting team to come in and take Greyback in and took Draco to his home. The wards seemed to recognize Draco, making it easy to get inside and lay him down in his bed. Harry was tempted to climb in with him, to hold him until he woke up, but somehow he had the impression that that would be overstepping the boundaries of their partnership, so instead he walked around the flat.

His first exploration was to the loo where he relieved himself while peering around the sink and medicine cabinet for evidence that Kir was spending nights. There wasn't so much as an extra toothbrush, which pleased him. Even if Kir had spent a night or two, he was given his things and made to leave by morning, and thus there was less attachment on Draco's part at least.

The rest of the flat was bereft of many of the cozy niceties that made a flat a home. There were no personal snapshots, but lots of modern art on the walls with track lighting to highlight it. None of the paintings were signed, leaving Harry at a dead end about who the artist was. It was as if the flat had been set up to purposefully throw anyone in it from gleaning any inkling about who Draco Malfoy was or what he wanted; a study in enigmatic home decor.

Unable to riddle out Draco's flat, he headed back into the bedroom, dragging a chair from the dining area in with him to sit on. He cast around for something to read and found Art of War by SunTzu on Draco's nightstand.

Harry sat back on his chair with it, flipping through the chapter names, "Laying Plans," and "The Use of Spies." It outlined everything from the conditions of the ground to evaluating the stance of a soldier in how to wage a proper war. He stared at the section on spies for rather a long time, wondering if the Ministry was right. Were they, he would certainly seem to be a "doomed spy." 

Having doomed spies, doing certain things openly for purposes of deception, and allowing our spies to know of them and report them to the enemy.

Closing the book, Harry looked at Draco's limp form snuggled under the covers, resting like a peaceful angel. "Who are you waging war against, Malfoy? And why?"

\--

"Talk about sticking your head in the lion's mouth!" said Ron as he drank down half his pint and set it on the end table. There were endless rings on that end table from countless pints Ron had carelessly set on it. The Weasley residence was always a clutter of kid's toys and smelled of diapers and spittle. There was a large screen television that featured prominently in the room, but it couldn't compete against the din of the three toddlers screaming from room-to-room throughout the house.

Harry nudged his toe against a worn spot in the dull tan carpet that barely covered the concrete beneath. It was no wonder Ron didn't want to spend much time in this squalor, but any time Harry started to feel sorry for him over his living conditions, he just looked up at the large screen television and sighed. Ron always did love his objects of expense and his sports. It made sense that he'd put such a high priority on a luxury item, but he could've done something better with the money. But then, Ron had never been particularly practical. 

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, taking a quick sip of the tepid beer. He rested it on his knee, even though saving the end table seemed pretty pointless now.

"Going to Malfoy's flat! Was it full of dark materials? Christ, did you see what he did to Greyback?" Ron paused to swallow another loud gulp of his pint and then nodded. "Well, I mean, of course you did, you were there when it happened. I bet it was fast. Malfoy's pretty quick and vicious."

"Mm... well, Greyback did come at us with a machete. He was throttling Malfoy at one point. Maybe he overreacted a bit, but it was pretty intense." Harry took another sip, but he could tell from Ron's expression that he wasn't buying being blown off like that.

"Harry, after what that twat did to Bill, the damage done to Greyback was but a good start, if you ask me. But I can't believe that was all done in an instant. Powerful as Malfoy is, it takes time to be that devious. There were burn marks on his tongue, and evidently the silver poisoned Greyback's blood. Even if he recovers, he's going to be sick as a... well... a dog and miserable. That was methodical, not blind fear." Ron finished his pint and tapped his wand on the edge of the glass. 

Behind them a Guinness can started to crumple, drained from the inside as it emptied with a perfect, full head into Ron's glass. Then Ron turned to Harry's. Seeing it was mostly still full, Ron took Harry's glass, finished it for him and refilled it with a fresh one, smirking. "Waste not in this house, Potter."

Harry nodded weakly and eyed the spot on the glass where Ron's lips had been. At one point he would've relished placing his lips in that same spot, but lately he was starting to see the cracks in his best friend; finding some of his antics less than amusing even if they hadn't really changed much. Still, he was his best mate and he owed him at least some of the truth. "Greyback said something about Malfoy crying over his mum, but I don't remember what happened to her."

A crafty look settled on Ron's face as he fought through the drunken haze to see if he remembered anything, which he seemed to. "They never found her body," said Ron after his pause. "She and Malfoy vanished about the same time and everyone assumed they were both dead. Loads of Death Eaters and suspected Death Eaters vanished without a trace and were presumed dead. Some bodies were recovered, but not all of them."

"Right." Harry remembered this, of course, but he hadn't really thought about it in regards to Narcissa before now. He hadn't even though about what became of Draco very much until his return. "Greyback knew something about her, then. Something Malfoy didn't want him to say in front of me."

"Could've just been embarrassed about being caught crying again," said Ron, blue eyes shining with mirth and drunkenness. "What a sniveller, right?"

Harry sighed and gave a half laugh so as not to alienate Ron's gloating, which was somewhat annoying, but he was more concerned with why Draco chose to shut Greyback up at that moment. Had Greyback done something to Draco's mum? Was Narcissa Malfoy a werewolf? Or did Draco flee with her to find safe harbor and he was hiding her now? 

His thoughts were interrupted by Ron barking, "Oy! Neville! Get off of daddy's telly!"

The eldest of the infants, who bore a striking resemblance to his namesake, was trying to crawl up the side of the telly. The shock of Ron's voice made him freeze and he lost his grip and toppled backwards, his weight enough to unseat the telly enough to make it fall forward with him. 

Without hesitation, Harry pulled his wand, halting the television and setting it back while he slowed Neville's descent to a twirling float to the floor. 

"Good man, Harry," said Ron as he slapped Harry's back. "That was close, wasn't it?" 

Ron appeared breathless, eyes wide, his wand out. He just hadn't been quite as fast as Harry, but Harry was sure it would've been fine either way.

"Yeah. Where's Hermione?" he asked as he pocketed his wand. Neville crawled up into Harry's lap to give him a sticky kiss of thanks on the cheek.

"Oh..." Ron gestured vaguely. "Shopping."

"At half ten?" asked Harry incredulously. He snuggled Neville a moment and then sat up a bit straighter. "Shouldn't he be in bed?"

"Erm, probably. She usually puts them down, I guess." Ron held out his arms for Neville. "The other blighters are a little too quiet for our own good, aren't they?"

Michael and Justin were, indeed, rather quiet, but that was because they had fallen asleep on the kitchen floor. Again Harry noted the resemblance to other Hogwarts denizens but said little about it. After the war, Hermione had spent a summer with her parents and when she'd returned, she had suddenly been hyper aware of her hair, and wore shirts that showed off her midriff more than Harry thought a chubby girl should.

Around that time she seemed to "forget" spells a lot and otherwise acted the part of a ditzy cow who had returned from a summer with a makeover and a new attitude. Ron had been too enamored with the New Hermione to notice that she wasn't herself at all and when she'd gotten up the duff, assumed it was his and married her. Irksome as he'd found the whole debacle, they were still his friends, so Harry turned a blind eye to the whole thing.

After the kids were tucked in bed, Harry finished his pint and started the process of his goodbyes.

"Thanks, mate. You're the best, you know that?" asked Ron, patting Harry's shoulder a few times as the headed for the door.

"It's nothing, Ron, really. I just... just be happy, all right?" Harry looked around the cluttered dingy house, wondering if he popped off a few cleaning charms if Ron would be insulted. He decided to leave it.

"Sometimes I think you're the only one who cares if I'm happy," Ron slurred in weak drunk speak. He looked almost lovesick, but Harry knew it had nothing to do with him. In spite of his roving, he knew that Ron truly loved Hermione and didn't understand her change. Harry couldn't help him there. It was as if some outside evil force was pushing Hermione into being a tart against her bookish will, turning her into a mockery of the beautiful, wise and intelligent girl she'd once been to run about in short skirts and track pants and drool all over anyone that would have her. 

"Loads of people love you, Ron. I love you. Your family loves you... your partner..." Harry tried. 

Ron's eyes widened and he exhaled slowly. "Tonks wants reassigned. Shacklebolt's not told you? He's going to put me with Malfoy for a while. I thought he said he mentioned that...." 

Mouth dropped open in utter shock, Harry stood stock still as the feeling of ice water splashed in his face ebbed away and he was left with feeling nothing but a hard, cold emptiness inside of him. If Ron hadn't looked so pathetically like he was going to cry Harry might've screamed at him about cocking up things with Tonks to the point where she demanded a new partner. 

"No. He didn't mention that," Harry said, feeling the coldness come out of him as if it frosted the breath his words came out on.

Ron definitely noticed the change and stood up straighter. "Yes, well, now you know." He gave Harry a hard, suspicious look. "Maybe it's a good thing for the Ministry. They might get more complete reports on what Malfoy's up to."

"Excuse me?" Harry could hardly believe his ears. Ron had gone from love to war in the mercurial speed of inebriation, and as much as Harry worked to rationalize that Ron wasn't in full control of his faculties, it struck deep.

"You heard me. You know, some people at the office think you get off on the way he looks at you," Ron said, leaning against the door as Harry backed out onto the porch. 

"The way he looks at me? He doesn't look at me in any--" Did he?

"You should just shag him and get over it, Potter!" Ron snapped and then slammed the door in Harry's face. 

Harry stared at the matte brown door, cheaply painted with a lacquer that was already starting to peel even though they'd painted it only two years ago. Ron had been so excited then, thinking he was going to have this family all to himself and that Hermione had finally loosened up to try sex "the other way." The complete ridiculousness of the situation made Harry laugh in that demented, hysterical way when you aren't sure if things could get any more confusing. And once he started, it was hard to stop.


	4. Episode 4: Switcheroo

"It's just that he's... gone so much with work, Hermione. I just thought that you'd be concerned," said Harry. He'd tried to make himself comfortable on the couch, but each time he got settled in, Hermione would scoot so close she was practically in his lap. This time was no exception. He pulled his pint away in the nick of time to keep it from being dumped on him. That was the third time his Seeker reflexes had kept him from being drenched and he was starting to get the idea she was doing it on purpose.

"He's always been very busy with work, Harry. I know you know that," said Hermione as she traced her finger along the arm of Harry's glasses. The move made him shudder inwardly, but he managed to keep from slapping her hand away. "It's sweet of you to care, though. I should reward you." 

Hermione rested her hand on Harry's knee, causing Harry to jump up so quickly that he almost dumped his pint on himself. "Erm... no reward necessary, Hermione. It's just that..."

As he looked down at her dull brown eyes marked up with too much kohl in a halter top that was anything but demure. The orange top gapped from her chest, revealing her saggy post-natal breasts. Even if Harry were straight, he wouldn't have wanted to see that. He looked away.

"What? Are you gay or something?" asked Hermione. He heard her shifting on the couch as he looked over the discarded toys around the living area. At the very least, Hermione seemed to know how to get the kids off to bed with minimal fuss. Harry suspected it had to do with potions slipped into their food, but as uncomfortable as things already were, he was grateful to not have infants clinging to his legs.

"What? I..." Maybe he should come out to her. They'd been friends for years, after all, and before her "summer makeover" where she came back… like this… she'd been good to talk to.

"No, I'm sorry. That's not fair is it? Sure, your partner's homosexual, but that doesn't mean you are, does it? You just don't find me attractive, do you?" she asked, standing up to cross to him. 

Harry finished his pint and took a step back, not sure how to respond to that. "Erm... you're very attractive, I guess." In truth, Harry found Hermione more attractive before the makeover, but he'd always really seen her as a friend and then as "Ron's girl." This creature was alien to him, he decided. 

Worse yet, she wasn't going to nag Ron into doing less work. And lately, it really had been work; work with Harry's erstwhile partner Draco Malfoy.

"Then I don't understand why you don't… do you want another drink, Harry?" Now she was close enough to wrap her hand around his on the pint glass and she leaned in against him. "I know you're not seeing anyone. Ron talks about how much you need to get laid all the time. Stick up your arse, he says."

"What?" Harry released the glass into her hand, not even sure where to start with all of that. "I don't need to get laid."

Taking the glass, Hermione's brows rose and she flipped back her bushy brown hair. "You have a girlfriend, Harry? What's her name?"

Her challenging tone irked him, as if it was so impossible or unlikely he could be seeing someone! "I don't have a girlfriend." Nor would he. It was beyond Harry's comprehension that no one had sussed him out. But then, he wasn't the center of anyone's world anymore. 

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

I wish. "No."

Hermione laughed and shook her head. "I was just kidding, Harry. I know you're not gay. You just have that gay Draco Malfoy as your partner. It's too funny, isn't it? You know, though, I'm starting to suspect that Ron's getting a little bisexual now." 

Harry's heart stopped; his irritation with her washed away with the notion that his suspicions were being confirmed. He wasn't sure what he would do if he found out that Ron and Draco were solving crime the way that he and Draco had been. Swallowing hard, he worked to find his voice, wishing he'd had a bit more to drink. "Why… why would you think that?"

As if he could prove how casual a question that was, he shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and shrugged. "I mean… you know... Ron's never seemed into blokes," said Harry.

"Oh, I don't know. Ron's always been a big talker about how a hole's a hole, hasn't he? Besides, he's been much more into doing my bum than my fanny lately. Even heard him use the term 'boypussy' seriously," she said, shrugging.

"Boypussy?" Harry looked up at her, paling at the implications and the anxiety it induced. 

"Oh Harry, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have told you all of my little problems. I'm so… touched that you care so much," she said. Harry had no time to assure her that while he did care about her and her marriage, sham that it was, he was much more concerned about his Draco being defiled by her husband, because her lips were immediately on his and he found himself slammed against the wall. Her hands were under his shirt with such swiftness that Harry thought it was a pity she couldn't fly very well, because she definitely had some quick reflexes. Maybe that was another part of her "makeover," though.

She was so fast that it took a moment to detangle from her. He'd finally managed to wrestle her hands from under his shirt and caught her by the wrists to push her back enough to keep her from molesting him further. "Hermione... I can't. We can't. I…"

But then she started to cry and Harry was at a complete loss. He'd made her cry before, but those circumstances were so very different and she was different. Right now, all he wanted to do was to run-- run and try to grapple with what was probably going on between Ron and Draco. If he didn't run, he might well end up crying with Hermione. 

"Why can't we? You know he's probably off shagging Malfoy right now!" she wailed.

Harry looked at her fretfully, knowing how she felt right now. So hurt, so angry, so betrayed.

"And he knows I want a threesome with another bloke! I bet its Malfoy who won't do it. Probably still calls me a Mudblood. That smarmy bastard!" Hermione cried. Her body went limp as she flopped against Harry to cry into his chest.

"Threesome?" Now Harry really had to leave before he became physically ill. "I don't think that…"

"Oh, I know, I know. Malfoy's gay. Still, he's stealing my husband, Harry. They spend all of their time together. I'm really afraid that I'm going to lose him." 

Allowing her to hug him, since now she seemed truly upset, Harry patted her hair gently, hoping to provide comfort. The hug felt good to him, as well. It didn't make these revelations any easier to bear, but at least he didn't feel totally alone. He wondered if all of this meant Kirley was out of the picture. "Look, Tonks took a leave of absence so I don't really have much going on. Maybe I could... watch them and then you'd know?"

Hermione squeezed him and for a moment Harry thought she might well try and touch him improperly again, but instead, she nodded. "I know... I know that things with Ron and me are unusual, Harry. I know you don't understand it… I'm not always sure I understand it myself. But he's never been this… enthused… about anyone else and I just… I really do love him, Harry."

Harry had no idea what to say to that. Maybe he just had very different views on love, but he didn't think it included what she and Ron were doing. Hermione did seem honestly upset, though, and it gave him good rationale to do what he wanted to do for the past three weeks; spy on Ron and Draco. "I'll see what I can do, Hermione. Don't worry."

\--

Though Harry had intended to arrive early to the Ministry, the long night of drinking dictated that he would be hung over and therefore slow coming in. When he did, he knew he was a bit of a mess and just that side of late. The bullpen was abuzz per usual, few people looked up at him as he passed, but he took special care to see what Ron and Draco were up to. 

They didn't talk much in the office, but that wasn't unusual to Harry's recollection. Draco rarely said anything outside of the necessary to him even though they had now fucked three times. He tried not to let those thoughts make him paranoid, but he couldn't help but wonder. 

Stopping at Ron's cube, Harry squinted at the copy of the Daily Prophet he was reading. Page two featured a picture of Kirley Duke; his arm around Draco whom Harry fancied looked a bit irritated. Or was that aroused? He was sneering, which would normally be a bad thing, but it had always been the natural state of Draco's expression, so it was hard to say. 

Ron's expression as he read the article beneath was just as unreadable. It appeared blank, but Harry thought perhaps he was a little pale. Was he pale or was Ron always that pale? Maybe it was the lights. But it at least answered the question as to whether Malfoy was still seeing Duke. Just how many blokes was Draco going to fuck? He felt himself growing flush with irritation and so it took Harry a moment to realize that Ron was looking at him curiously.

"All right there, Harry?" Ron pushed the paper away, but didn't bother closing or concealing what he had been reading. "You look like shite, mate. Pub crawl?"

"Erm, something like that." Harry desperately wanted to ask why Ron was reading that article and where he'd been and what was going on, but he couldn't figure out how to ask any of those things without sounding like a jealous lover. 

"Sorry, mate. Just been busy with Malfoy picking up the slack what with Tonks on leave and you too new to go out on your own. Maybe we can go out next week?" 

Harry took the comment as a barb, even if it hadn't been intentional. "It's not like I want to be stuck here doing paperwork!"

"That's not what I meant," said Ron. He looked irritated, like he wished Harry would just go away. Harry bet that Ron really liked having Draco as a partner. The no-strings-attached sex was probably exactly what he wanted and he wouldn't get Draco up the duff like the office rumor mill believed Tonks was. "It's just busy, is all."

"Got something going tonight?" asked Harry tightly. He hoped that they did, because he was quite ready to start out this new spy gig. There were too many questions and he was going to drive himself crazy with worry if he didn't find something out one way or the other.

"Think so. Shaklebolt's got us in for a meeting at half ten." Ron searched Harry's face. He beckoned him closer and looked around. Harry wasn't sure if Ron was trying to placate him with a secret or if he was just dying to say something. He tensed, trying to brace himself for what Ron was about to confess, but walked into the cube and leaned in to listen. "Did you ever see Malfoy… do anything?"

"What do you mean?" 

"I mean... he's supposed to be this scary badarse, but all I've seen him do is some wandless magic here and there; turning lights on and off and shite. I'm not going to complain, because we're getting cherry assignments, but I don't see what the big deal is with him. I read your reports and it doesn't sound like you did, either. I think he's as big a fraud now as his family ever was, don't you?"

There was something comforting in the idea that Draco hadn't shown any grand displays of magic in front of Ron. It had taken a while for Draco to really loosen up and do something impressive in front of Harry, but Draco's life had been in danger. Harry wasn't sure it meant what he wanted it to mean. He wondered if Ron thought Draco was still looking at him that way, but here wasn't the place to talk about it. Besides, he wasn't sure if he could take it if Ron thought he wasn't. 

"Yeah, Malfoy's a fraud." It felt good to say. Harry wished it were true on some levels. It wouldn't put him in this morally ambiguous place of not reporting what he'd seen. It was a little worrisome that Ron wasn't on about what fit bird he was shagging or trying to shag, but nice that he seemed more focused than he'd seen him in a while. They finished up their conversation with a few quiet remembrances of what a git Malfoy had been and Ron patting Harry on the back assuring him that at least now no one was questioning Harry's sexuality. 

"Yeah. At least."

Between Ron's reassurances and the nagging headache from his hangover, Harry decided to slip off to the break room to fix a cup of tea and then headed to his office. Upon arriving in his cube, he noticed that sitting on the file he'd left open about a dull cold case sat a small, Oriental carving that appeared to be made of ivory. 

Upon closer inspection, it appeared to be two Asian people engaged in copulation, only the figures were twisted around in such a way that it was obvious that they were both male and that the sex that was taking place was of the anal variety. Harry's eyes widened as he held the hand-sized figure and then he clamped his fingers around it and looked around the office in paranoia. Only one person in this office would know how that would appeal to him.

Squeezing the figure tightly, Harry tromped over to Draco's cube and kicked the frame to get Draco's attention.

Draco's placid expression as he whirled around in his chair, not even bothering to stand, heightened Harry's irritation. Harry held the figure out to him between thumb and forefinger and asked, "What is this?"

Casually, Draco plucked the piece from Harry's fingers and examined it as if it were the first time he'd seen it. Something about his sneer made it impossible for Harry to believe that he'd never seen this object d' porn before. "Hm... netsuke."

"What?" 

"Netsuke; shunga netsuke to be precise. They were popular in the Edo period in Japan," said Draco in his maddening drawl. "They hung from the obi of a man's kimono to serve as a pocket of sorts. They're often decorative to reflect a man's preferences." 

As Harry's face heated, Draco's sneer broadened. He watched in horror as Draco pressured the back of the entwined figures and they came apart enough to show a small compartment where tobacco or something small might be kept. Draco toyed with the small hinge between the two figures which caused the small, ivory penis to slide smoothly in and out of the bottom's arse. Harry sputtered and grabbed it from Draco's hands and looked around the office nervously again. 

"Why did you give me this?" asked Harry as he shoved it into his robe pocket, thankful that Wizarding robes had the foresight to have pockets to put things into. 

"Why do you think it was me?" Draco shot back. His expression was a honed portrait of blankness which Harry found unsettling.

"Who else would?" Harry was starting to feel paranoid and unsettled, which he could only imagine got Draco off. Somehow the idea that Draco was enjoying it made it more tolerable.

"Dunno. Weasley's been on about his interest in 'mangina,' perhaps he's sussed you out," said Draco, leaning in, his eyes alight with an inkling of malice. 

Mangina sounded so much like something Ron would say, it was hard for Harry not to laugh. He could tell that Draco found something irritating, but he wasn't sure if it was Ron or himself. "Anyway," he said, starting to back out of the cube out of discomfort. "I'll just have to figure out who it is so that I can thank them for this... gift."

Draco's expression relaxed back to a sneer and he turned back around in his chair. "I'm sure your outburst was payment enough for whoever it was." 

"Right." Harry felt a little dismissed, but he warmed to the idea that Draco had given him something. Sure, it was obscene, but it was a present nonetheless.

He was still going to follow Ron and Draco tonight because he'd go crazy if he didn't, but it was still comforting. 

"Erm, I'll... be in my cube... if you need anything," Harry added.

"Thanks for the update." Draco turned his head so that Harry could see just a slight glint of Draco's eyes. "And by the way, Potter, should you have any questions about my mum, you should just ask me rather than poking about in the closed case files."

"I..." Harry nearly choked at being caught. He thought he'd been so careful, checking out the files around Narcissa Malfoy nee Black so that he could scoop them all up without anyone noticing. He'd even gone so far as to charm them invisible, but somehow Draco knew. "Sorry."

Draco turned back to his desk and waved a dismissive hand behind him and Harry slunk away.

\--

Donning his trusty Invisibility Cloak, Harry followed Ron and Draco into a dilapidated row house in Islington. Much of this particular row was empty, but had the marks of undergoing renovations with scaffolding reaching to within a few houses of the one that he'd entered behind the other Aurors. It was curious that they weren't fixing the whole block, but Harry assumed that there was some greater Muggle politic keeping that from happening; in other words, these houses probably belonged to someone.

Harry had done his best to hide, even while he employed the cloak, as he wasn't entirely sure that Draco wouldn't be able to see through this magic. In his day, Dumbledore certainly had. Draco was not to Dumbledore's level of magical expertise as far as Harry knew, but he decided that prevention was better than the cure, and chose to skulk in the shadows, watching the interaction between Ron and Draco.

"Why do they send us out here after the action has happened? That's what I don't get," said Ron as he wandered the perimeter of the living area. There was no furniture in the room to speak of, just bare floorboards, candles in the corner, and a chalk outline of three half circles butted up to one another with a fourth circle that connected them all. 

"I would assume that as they are not fortune tellers or mind readers, they don't know that there will be these bursts of untraceable magic, nor where they'll occur," Draco answered, sounding harried, but distracted. 

Ron continued to wander aimlessly; ending up at a window in what would've been the dining area had there been any furniture. To his right was a cramped kitchen. All of the drawers were pulled out and empty. A small, yellow fridge stood open, blackened around the frame of the door with mold and spotted with rust. "Yeah. I know. Just... if they're such big bursts of energy, how are there no signatures?"

Draco knelt in front of the symbol and held out his hand. Around the room small spots glowed like footprints, some so small as to be mere pinpoints of light. Closing his hand into a fist, Draco squinted around at each of them as if memorizing their placement. When Ron turned around, the lights went out, leaving Ron clueless to anything happening at all. Harry had to appreciate the subtlety of the magic, as even he hadn't felt the prickle of it happening and he was well-trained and attuned to that sort of thing. 

"Malfoy, did you hear me?"

"Yeah." Draco appeared quite distracted, if not disturbed by whatever it was he'd discovered. Then he looked over his shoulder at Harry and perked a brow before turning back to Ron. 

"Well?" Ron pulled his wand and looked around, wrinkling his nose. 

Draco sighed loudly and stood. "I'd wager that finding the answer to those questions is why we're here, Weasley."

"I guess." Ron seemed ambivalent to the phenomenon, which irritated Harry as much as it seemed to irk Draco. At times like this, Harry wondered just why Ron had bothered to become an Auror. But then, Harry wasn't sure he'd given him much choice. Maybe he'd just been so blinded by enthusiasm to do it; he'd never noticed that Ron didn't much care. "So, saw you and Duke were out and about again."

"Oh?" Disinterested, Draco headed towards where there had been a particularly bright glow of magic and knelt down. He traced a pattern in the dust that Harry couldn't see and then nodded to himself, as if solving the puzzle for himself.

"Yeah, it was in the paper, a picture of you two. Must be nice, you know. Two blokes and all? S'much easier. Just walk into a loo and some bloke's there waiting to suck you off. So much easier," Ron confirmed to himself. He cast a standard magic trace spell which shimmered brightly around a box in the corner opposite to where Draco was contemplating. Harry wondered what loos these were that had men waiting to give head, but Ron's world was different than his, evidently.

"Oh yeah. That's why I shag men. Because it's so easy." Draco rolled his eyes and looked back at Ron in time to see him crossing to the box. In a panic, Draco jumped out, holding his hand out, palm flat in warning. "Weasley, wait! Don't touch that!"

But it was too late. While Ron had turned to give a questioning look at Draco, his hand dropped onto the small, black box and after a horrid moment of a murky brown glow surrounded Ron's body, he crumpled to the floor.

Immediately, Harry threw his cloak off and jumped up from his hiding place in the doorway and shrieked, "What the shit happened?"

"Bugger." Draco folded his arms and walked over to Ron, nudging him with his toe. "Well, you saw what happened."

Draco wasn't nearly so surprised by Harry's presence as he'd hoped he'd be, but it was a bit much to expect that Draco hadn't noticed him after he'd looked directly at him. "Yes, I saw what happened, but why did it happen? Did you know that would happen?"

"Yes. Well, no. I mean, I didn't expect that Weasley would suddenly have a moment of competency while I wasn't looking. It's not as if he was arsed to scry for magic at any of the other locations we've investigated. How was I to know he'd pick this trap to spring?" Bending over Ron, Draco held his hands out a few inches from Ron's body and grumbled about the stupidity of Weasleys and cursed Gryffindors in general.

Harry took a calming breath, determined not to flip his shit over Draco's eerily relaxed demeanor. He decided to focus on the idea that if Draco was so blasé that it meant that he knew what was going on. "So you know what it is?"

Making a face, Draco took a seat next to Ron's body. Harry followed and reached out slowly to touch Ron, but paused, noting that Draco hadn't. Draco gave him a look of approval for his caution and gestured that Harry could touch him if he wanted. "I'm pretty sure he's knocked out by a yuurei." 

After a beat and a questioning look from Harry, Draco continued, "A yuurei is a Japanese ghost that suffered, or at least believed it suffered miserably and has returned for revenge. It's generally a female ghost."

"Okay… so I guess the next question would be what is a Japanese ghost doing in London?" 

Draco tapped his fingers on the ground, pressing his lips together in thought. "It's set up as a trap to discourage anyone looking to deeply into what's going on. These boxes are spirit containers and they keep the yuurei trapped. Touching one releases the ghost."

"What happens when it's released?" asked Harry, glaring at the box.

"I'm… not entirely sure, actually." 

Harry looked at Draco in shock. He was so used to Draco having the answers that it was aggravating that he didn't have them now. "What do you mean you're not sure? Ron's knocked out. Your partner is unconscious! How do you not know?"

"I didn't exactly plan for my partner to be a lackwit who would go about touching black boxes of mystery. Who does that?" Draco shot back.

"Well he's your partner!" Harry huffed.

"He's your friend!" Draco replied. 

"And he's my hostage! Mweeheeheee!" a high, familiar voice replied.

Harry and Draco stared at each other for a moment as if reality was closing in and that suddenly everything was a bit too insane to be real. At the same time, they both turned their heads slowly to the apparition floating over the black box and asked in unison, "Myrtle?"

"That's right, boys," she cooed, floating around them happily. 

"You said a Japanese ghost. Myrtle's not Japanese!" Harry protested, as if that would change things. He wasn't at all sure what to make of this except that it Wasn't Going To Be Good.

"It was Japanese magic that trapped the spirit!" Draco pointed out. He grabbed the box and turned it over where a label read "Made in Japan." Draco held it up as proof of his theory, but Myrtle stuck her head through him and through the box to blow a lascivious kiss at Harry.

"So how did Japanese magic get an English ghost out of Hogwarts?" Harry asked after dodging the kiss.

"Hrmf! I'm floating right here, you know. I could tell you, Harry," Myrtle said coyly, twisting her hair around her finger. 

"Fair enough," said Harry, particularly since Draco was just glaring at him and offering nothing by way of explanation. "How did Japanese magic trap you in that box?"

"I don't know!" she said, her mood changing suddenly again as she swirled around the room. "I heard someone calling to me in a funny language and he asked if I was bored with the loo and I said I was and he asked if I wanted to come with him and I said that I would. And then I was in a box! But now I can be your friend if I want to. Would you like that, Harry? I always thought you liked Won-Won as more than a friend." She giggled in that creepily hysterical way she could when she thought she was funny. "Wheee!"

"What does that mean?" Draco snapped.

Harry was shocked at Draco's reaction and as much as he wanted to stop and think about the implications of that, he needed to deal with what was going on with Ron. "Ron and I have never been... like that. He's married. And you are my friend, Myrtle. Malfoy's friend too, right?"

Draco glared.

"Ooooh yes," said Myrtle as she curled around Draco, resting her ghostly head on his shoulder. "My sensitive boy. You were both so sensitive, weren't you, hmm?" 

She giggled again and Draco gritted his teeth. "Yes. I'm very sensitive. Right now I'm very worried about Weasley. What's wrong with him?"

"Oh! Poor ickle Dwako! Don't cry this time, all right? He'll be all right," she cooed, trying to stroke Draco's hair.

It was hard for Harry not to giggle at the spectacle, but Ron's limp body sobered him. "So Ron's just knocked out?"

"Oh, no. His body is preparing to take my spirit, so soon I'll really be your best friend, Harry!" she giggled. "I don't know that I wanted to be a ginger kid, but I'll take what I can get!"

"Ginger kids. Gross." Draco wrinkled his nose. 

Harry looked between them as if they had both lost their minds, and he wasn't entirely sure it wasn't him. "Then what happens to Ron?"

"I don't know! You said he's married to that girl? The one who became a cat?" Myrtle giggled again. "Oh no, we'll have to change that! I don't like girls like that! But neither do you two! Maybe we could all…."

"No!" both men shouted before she could even finish that. They eyed each other and then looked away.

"Ooooooohhhh that takes the fun out of it!" Myrtle wailed as she started circling the room. 

"Myrtle. Pay attention," said Draco. He held out his hand and she froze in place and turned towards him, seeming quite shocked by this predicament. "What happens to Weasley if you take him over?"

"He dies, I guess." She shook her shoulders and broke away from the grip Draco had on her. Myrtle gave him a curious look and then settled down on her knees in front of him. 

"And what happens to you if this doesn't happen?" Draco asked gently. Harry had never really thought about what Draco's relationship with Myrtle might've been like. She'd called him sensitive and he assumed that it was because Draco cried. Now he wondered if there wasn't something more tender there. There were other places in the castle where Draco could've gone to cry, but he chose to go there, evidently repeatedly. 

"I go back to Hogwarts."

Draco nodded and looked at her and then at Ron. "You don't want him to die, do you? Not really, Myrtle."

For the first time that Harry had noticed, Myrtle really looked at Ron. Slow, silvery tears rolled down Myrtle's cheeks and she shook her head. It was a sharp contrast to her usual hysterical yowling. "No. I don't want him to die."

"Then you're going to have to stop, right?" asked Draco. 

Myrtle looked to Draco and then over at Harry then back again. Then her mood changed in an instant again, suddenly she looked impish. "You have to do something for me, first. You have to satisfy a condition for me. Otherwise the magic won't break."

Draco shifted, looking suddenly uncomfortable. "You know I can't… touch you."

Harry blinked, wondering again about the nature of the relationship between them again, but if how she behaved around him was any indication then maybe… he didn't really want to think about it. 

"But you can touch Harry," she said, giggling wildly. 

"Myrtle…" Draco looked shifty and then cut his eyes to Harry. "That's not appropriate."

"I know you want to, Dwaaaako!" she said, swirling around the room.

Harry did a double take at Draco, but he'd turned his back on Harry. "What does that mean?"

"She's been dead too long and is obviously delusional," Draco muttered. 

"Oh, I know you two boys were watching each other. You could hardly take your eyes off of Draco sixth year!" Myrtle squealed before hovering over the little black box that she'd come from. 

"That was different!" Harry protested. Draco was right. Myrtle was clearly delusional. "I thought he was up to something! And he was!"

Harry looked to Draco for confirmation on this topic, but Draco too busy prodding at Ron and casting detection spells on him. "Hm? What? Right, yes, I was doing something evil, wrong and bad."

"Yeah," said Harry, his look softening. For now, he was going to forget this weirdness about their sixth year, in lieu of what was going on with Ron. "Is he all right?"

"Time's just... running short. She's getting paler, and so is he," said Draco, sighing. "The transfer is working. Our time is going to be limited." 

"Oooohhhhhhooohhh," said Myrtle. "Looks like we'll have to see what I wanted to see hm, Malfoy?"

"Is that entirely necessary?" Draco blushed, which surprised Harry as he was under the impression that the antichrist couldn't blush. But then it occurred to him that there was something that Myrtle evidently wanted to see from Draco that he'd never shown. 

"It's nothing I didn't see Prefects doing in the bath, Draco, you know that." Myrtle cackled at Harry's horrified look. "Yes, well you know I saw you, Haaarrrry," she purred. "But Draco always knew I was there!" 

"What? How did he know?" Granted, Draco was standing right there to ask, but Harry asked Myrtle anyway.

"I told you, he's sensitive. Sensitive to spirits, too!" she said.

Harry turned to Draco to confirm this, wondering if that wasn't the answer to some of his mysterious powers. Not that spiritual sensitivity necessarily meant that he was psychic, but if Draco were a Seer then... no, that was ridiculous. Draco was just as easily duped as anyone. Still, he filed it away to think about later.

Draco rubbed his face and looked at Ron several times, as if not tossing off was a viable option to letting Ron die. His face contorted into a horridly wicked expression that caused Harry to remind him, "Ron's your partner, Draco. The Ministry frowns on Aurors allowing their partners to die because they..." he paused as a really brilliant pun came to mind, "don't give a toss."

"Now I'll never get hard."

"I can help," said Harry.

"Oooh, yes! You should help him, Harry!" Myrtle encouraged. "In fact, Draco, take off your clothes and lean back against Ron. It will be like a threesome!"

"But Ron's unconscious, Myrtle!" Harry protested. Maybe he wasn't terribly fond of Ron lately, but that seemed pretty out of hand.

"From what I hear, that won't make much difference," said Draco, who had evidently made his mind up to do it, as he'd stood up and began deftly disrobing. 

"Ooooh!" said Myrtle. "Not much has changed since Hogwarts, then!" 

"Hey!" But really, Harry didn't know what to say to defend Ron. It wasn't as if he had personal experience to draw from on how Ron was in bed. In Harry's fantasies, he'd always been rather good, but this seemed an impolitic moment to mention those daydreams.

Draco spread his robe over the floor and over the part of Ron that he evidently intended to lean against. Harry still wasn't sure how he felt about Ron as a sexual prop, but Draco's supine form sprawled out over his burgundy velvet robe with his hand wrapped around his cock made it difficult for him to argue the point. 

Harry was conscious only of his breathing and the soft rustle of Draco's wet hand sliding over his cock. He was moving in a predictably quick fashion, firming himself up to a more complete erection, and then he did something unusual. His fingers curled rather specifically over the head of his cock, pinching in around just the head. From that position, he pulled in short strokes, stimulating the head. It made sense, but Harry had never even thought to try anything like that.

"Oooh, I knew you'd do something unusual!" Myrtle enthused. 

"Er... thanks." Draco squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, as of trying to block the room out. Then he opened his eyes slowly, his gaze steady on Harry.

His already loud breathing was joined by the hard thumping of his pulse that echoed through his body, finally pooling in a hard beat in Harry's cock. Distantly, Harry could hear Myrtle cooing and squealing about how Draco was looking at him, but whatever embarrassment he should have felt was blocked out by the intensity of Draco's stare.

"Put something inside of yourself," Myrtle said. Harry heard that much and he was more than willing to offer up something to put into Draco. He quickly started to undress. "Hold on there, Tiger. Your turn is coming."

Harry had never quite experienced the sensation of lust as his mouth watering, but were he ever to, now would be the time. He turned to tell Myrtle off, but Draco shook his head at Harry. The shock of ginger hair behind Draco reminded Harry why he wasn't to upset Myrtle. 

Holding his hand out, Draco's lips formed some word Harry didn't recognize and a formidable bright purple dildo appeared in Draco's hand. Harry wanted to cry foul, to say that Draco had protested that he was a virgin and yet, he had that thing that he knew well enough to conjure from thin air. Yet he realized that virginity applied to never having someone inside of him and not something. So then he fixated on whether it was bigger than he was. 

It was.

Harry decided to un-fixate.

De-fixate.

Whatever.

He wasn't going to think about it anymore. Except... he was thinking about it still.

"Oooh, I wonder how he knew to get that," Myrtle pondered, floating closer to Harry.

"He was in a monastery. It was lonely," said Harry, grateful now that he hadn't taken his clothes off.

"Not that lonely, apparently!" Myrtle cackled. 

Harry fidgeted and thought about leaving, except that Draco had brought the dildo to his lips and was now pushing it deep into his mouth, taking it down his throat, making a huge show of it, presumably for Myrtle, but he still hadn't stopped watching Harry. Was this the look that the other Aurors saw Draco giving him? Surely not. It was far too viscerally sexual, but still, Harry had never really imagined anyone looking at him like that, and he felt another thrill of sexual tension shiver down his spine. 

Pulling the purple prick from his mouth, Draco prodded it against his opening, circling the tip around it first before purposefully pushing it into him. This was the first time Harry could really appreciate the way that Draco's anus stretched from such a small aperture to accommodate something so wide. His skin paled and then flushed as Draco worked the dildo into him. Hand stilled on his cock, Draco twisted his wrist, spinning the jelly dong into him as his head fell back, his cheeks bright with the effort and his body glistening with sweat. Once it was in, Draco pulled it back out slowly, then jammed it in again. 

"That's it, fuck that boypussy, Draco!" Myrtle cheered.

Two mentions of boypussy in as many days. It had to be a sign. Of something. If Draco really was a Seer, Harry would have to ask. 

Draco looked up at Myrtle, eyes wide and offended, but he gamely continued, looking back at Harry. 

"Someone doesn't like that word, does he? Malfoy doesn't like it being called a boypussy. Does that bother you, Malfoy, talking about your dirty little boypussy?"

"Stop it, Myrtle, he doesn't like it." Harry rounded on Myrtle, obscuring her view of Draco protectively. 

"I don't give a bloody fuck what he likes or doesn't like. I'm in charge here! Do you want your friend to die, Harry?" she asked.

It seemed a stupid word to die over; Harry wondered if Ron would appreciate the irony if he was ended over it. If Myrtle were any example for the standard of ghostly senses of humor, Harry imagined it would make Ron tetchy in the afterlife. He might even get haunted. "No, I don't want him to die."

"Get undressed," she said sweetly. "And tell Draco that you want to fuck his boypussy."

Harry winkled his nose, but then rolled his eyes as he finished undressing. He turned to look at Draco, who was staring at the floor as he fucked himself slower now. "I want to fuck your boypussy," said Harry flatly.

"Oh, that's no fun, that's no fun at all!" said Myrtle, swirling around Draco. 

As far as Harry was concerned, she was right. It hadn't been fun at all. Draco looked honestly humiliated with the word and Harry hated himself for saying it so casually. It meant nothing to him, but obviously Draco was unhappy.

"Malfoy, I want you to ask Harry to fuck your boypussy."

"Myrtle, no!" said Harry, his brows furrowed as he stroked himself. 

Draco's face looked tortured, his lips parted wantonly. He pulled the dildo from inside of him and set it on his cloak and resumed tossing off. He shook his head, finally.

"Do it. Do it or Ronald dies. Do you want Ronald to die because you were too chickenshit to say boypussy?" She shrieked with the fury of a ghost not getting her way. She fled around the room, screaming obscenities in frustration.

Pulling his arm over his face, Draco finally mumbled, "Fuckmboypussy."

Myrtle stopped and hovered over Draco, grinning happily. "What was that? I didn't quite hear it."

Draco winced and looked away from her. "Fuck m'boypussy."

"With conviction!"

Groaning, Draco said it louder with slightly more conviction. "Fuck my boypussy."

As much as he hated himself for it, Harry felt a twitch in his cock at Draco's humiliation. Something about the way he sheepishly lowered his face, his head ducked under in such a boyish way. 

"Say it to Harry! Louder!"

Draco's face was blotchy red, his eyes rimmed red as if he were about to cry. It was surprisingly agonizing to get Draco to say it, but he narrowed his eyes, took a deep breath and said, "Dear god." After a pause he said, "Fuck my boypussy, Harry. I want you to fuck me hard over your best friend, because I need to feel you fucking my hot, wet boypussy right fucking now."

As much as Harry wanted to stand there gaping at him, his body had more pressing needs and tossing off wasn't going to sate it. Harry crossed the room and slammed down onto his knees on the edge of Draco's robes. Draco hooked his knees up on Harry's shoulder and Harry lined himself up with Draco and pushed solidly into his warm hole, not worried about how he'd take him because he'd just taken the dong. 

Harry gathered Draco off of Ron, crossing his arms over Draco's back. He plowed into Draco as deeply as he could, Draco's speech ringing in his ears. Maybe it was just acting, something done to satisfy Myrtle, but Harry thought it was the sexiest thing he'd ever heard. Fucking Draco cheek-to-cheek, Harry breathed in his ear, a constant update on how good Draco felt enveloping and how effective his words had been, even if he could never imagine Draco saying such a thing again. 

Between the intensity of Draco's muscular inner walls sucking around him and the memory of the searing, agonized look on Draco's face as dirty talk spilled from his angelic lips, Harry already felt the dizzying anxiety of his release approaching. Like a ship on a rocky storm far away, that is all too soon upon you, Harry was overtaken by the shuddering orgasm.

He released into Draco, still clutching him. Feeling movement on his abdomen, Harry looked down between them, Draco's hand working on the head of his cock. He observed the hot spit of come pushing through the slit and oozing over Draco's fingers and down the side of his cock. 

"You're so fucking beautiful," Harry whispered before he could censor himself.

"I know," Draco panted.

Harry smiled and was about to tell Draco he was a class-A arrogant prat when Ron started to stir beneath them. Checking around the room, Harry was relieved to note that Myrtle was no longer with them, but Ron was awakening and Harry had no Reasonable Explanation for this. He didn't even have an unreasonable explanation, really. Worse yet, his wand was on the other side of the room.

"Stupefy!" said Draco. Ron stopped moving. Never had Harry been so grateful for wandless magic before this precise moment. 

\--

"So yeah, I don't remember anything else from that day. Kingsley thinks that Draco put the whammy on me so he could carry out his diabolical schemes," said Ron before he sipped his pint. 

Harry was pretty sure that "The Whammy" was not a magical term and that it was not precisely what Kingsley had said, but Ron seemed happy enough with the explanation. If he only knew how much whamming had been going on atop him. "Yeah, I got notice that I was being assigned with him again."

"Don't see why. He could get the drop on you just as easily as he did me. Probably did, too. You just don't remember. Hey, is that Lavender?"

Because Harry was so happy to be assigned to Draco again, he chose not to take offense to Ron's remarks. He knew he was just feeling humiliated, but Harry hadn't told him to be truthful about his loss of memory. Ron had been taking the Mickey for "fainting" all week long. He turned to look at who had just walked in. She was decidedly not Lavender. "No, it's not. Hey look, Ron, maybe you should go home and tend to your wife?"

"What crawled up your arse?" Ron said, glaring at Harry.

"Nothing." Yet, but there was always tomorrow. "Just seems like a slow night, you might want to, you know, see your family."

Ron glared at Harry for a moment, seething with something that Harry couldn't place. It didn't seem that out of line to him to tell Ron to spend time with the woman he married.

"You know, I don't know who you are anymore. Every since you were partnered up with Draco, I'm not good enough for you. You just pick, pick, pick and judge me and my life." To punctuate his point, Ron slammed the glass on the Leaky bar.

"I just think you could treat your family a little better," said Harry. He regretted it immediately when he saw Ron's face redden.

"Me? Me treat my family better? Harry, have you seen my family? I've nothing to do with those kids. You know it, I know it, dogs know it! It's rubbed in my face every day. She even named them to mock me. So excuse the bloody hell out of me if I have a little fun when I can." Ron sneered at Harry for a moment, and then turned to make a beeline for the girl who was not Lavender.

"Ron, wait!" Harry stood, heart breaking that Ron did seem to know all of this. Harry had just assumed he was that dense; a horrid assumption on Harry's part. Perhaps it was wishful thinking because the alternative was this; Ron's extreme unhappiness. 

"Piss off, Harry." Ron waved him off, not even pausing to spare Harry a glance.

At this point, Harry couldn't blame him. He stared glumly into the foam in his pint and sighed, wishing he could keep his big mouth shut. Harry tried to cheer himself by thinking about Draco being his partner again, and that worry being over. As happy as that made him, it wasn't enough to keep him in this pub with Ron shooting death glances his direction. After paying the tab, Harry headed home, hoping next week would be better.


	5. Episode 5: Enigma Rising

A large crowd was gathered outside of the Leaky and Harry heard the abrupt sound check going on inside. Normally, the Leaky didn't host anything aside from magical lushes and the assorted Ministry worker-- often one and the same-- which left Harry curious and Ron irritated. 

"What in the bloody hell is this? A bloke goes in to get pissed and there's a queue?" Ron's glare turned to leers when he saw the scantily clad birds buzzing about, but only momentarily. 

Harry smiled as best he could with the hope that this added tension wouldn't shatter their uneasy peace. They'd both apologized, in their own fashion, and thus far things had been looking good. For the time being, Harry had put his feelings for Draco on the shelf. Maybe he hadn't been himself since he'd started in with Draco. He'd argue that he had always been vexed by Ron's womanizing and how different Hermione was; he'd never felt the urge to voice it before. That would just lead to more arguing and he didn't want to do that. 

"Kirley Duke of the Weird Sisters! He's working on a solo album and wants to test out material!" said a young slapper who couldn't have been more than 19, at best. 

Ron shot Harry a malicious smile. "How exciting, your partner's here with his boyfriend, Harry." 

Harry wasn't sure if he was more hurt that it was probably true that Draco was in there with Duke or that Ron was pointing it out to hurt him on purpose.

"Oh my God, you're Harry Potter!" the bint Ron had been talking to squealed excitedly. "Do you know Kirley Duke? Can you introduce me?"

Normally squealing fangirls irked Harry, but at the moment, he was pleased to receive Ron's jealous glare. He returned it with a glare of his own that said, you deserve at least that. 

"As a matter of fact, I do know him," said Harry. He wished he didn't, at least not in the way he knew him, but that hardly seemed the point now. 

"Oh that's fantastic! Come on!" she squeaked, tugging Harry through the crowd by his arm. 

There was an unsettling amount of activity inside of the usually barren confines of the Leaky. Girls and boys were dressed in flashy colors and Weird Sisters t-shirts, many of which featured a winking Kirley Duke, giving a sleazy thumbs-up before cycling back to the wink. What. A. Cheese-ball. 

Another abrupt blurt of the sound system brought Harry's attention to King Cheese himself. Kirley straddled a stool on a makeshift transfigured stage that sat in what was usually the darkest part of the Leaky. Enchanted oil lamps in primary colors hung over his head, casting a chaotic light on Kirley and the stage. Harry wish-not-wished that one of the lamps would tumble over and disfigure Kirley. The thought made him ashamed. Maybe Draco liked him better, maybe not, but no one really deserved that. 

Kirley was tuning one of his many fantastical multi-necked guitars and then flipped his hair back to look up and around, eyes obviously dazzled by the light. His smirk was like a discount imitation of Draco's, as if he were borrowing Draco's natural detached wryness. It looked affected to Harry, but the screaming it elicited from the crowd made Harry doubt that anyone else thought that. They just didn't know Draco. 

Speaking of, Harry squinted around the room, rising on his toes to catch sight of Draco's white-blond head, cast red-then-green in the spiral of lights, leaning casually against the bar. Or at least, his posture was casual. His eyes scanned the room deftly, and while Harry wanted to believe that maybe he was looking for him, he'd observed Draco measuring for threats too many times to see it as anything but that. 

When Draco's eyes rested on Harry, they widened. Quickly over his surprise, Draco sneer-smirked in that effortless way that once had vexed Harry, but now it melted him a little. Draco lifted his hand and curled a finger to draw Harry to him. The girl who had hold of Harry's arm was irritated when he excused himself and toddled off in a huff. Harry couldn't be arsed to care about her, or where Ron had gotten off to at the moment. 

He squeezed through the crowd to join Draco. For a moment, Draco looked away suddenly, his eyes keen on a young man getting too close to the stage. A murmured word and there was a sharp purple flare and the young man bounced back into the crowd.

"Duke doesn't have his own security, Malfoy?" 

Draco sipped from a tall glass of clear, sparkling fluid. The glass was almost empty. "They're incompetent boobs."

It was disheartening to see Draco so protective of Kirley, but perhaps it was just a job. Harry wanted to ask, but the answer might be more than he wanted to know. "Most people are, compared to you. Can I buy you another? Gin and tonic?" 

"Was that a compliment, Potter? Be still my beating heart!" Draco sounded caustic and probably was, but his grin reflected genuine amusement. "At last, something we agree upon."

Harry blushed at the reception of his compliment and shrugged. "Right, well. Another drink?"

"Just tonic. Not drinking on the job." Draco sucked a cube of ice from the tall, narrow glass. He pushed it in and out between the puckered hole his lips formed, levering it with his tongue, eyes half-lidded at Harry. 

All Harry could do was to stare. The only messages that got through went to his cock, which knew well enough to salute in appreciation. His jaw dropped awkwardly open and he tried to form words, a valiant effort, he thought, but nothing was coming out. 

Parting his lips, Draco flipped the cube into his mouth with a quick motion, moving it to his molars. Face screwed up with the effort, Draco crunched the cube between his teeth, which was enough to make Harry start and blink. "Yes, I'd like another, Potter."

Harry nodded to Tom and pointed to Draco's drink and it refilled itself, fluid rising from the bottom of the glass. A few replacement cubes of ice popped into the mix until the glass was full. 

"They say chewing ice is a sign of sexual frustration," Harry pointed out, trying to regain some semblance of dignity as he pulled his long, brown t-shirt down over his bulge.

"Do you think I'm sexually frustrated, Potter?" Draco asked. His tone sounded casual, or rather, it sounded like he wanted it to be casual. It was a subtle difference, although one that was hard to discern with any certainty over the din. 

Maybe it was just wishful thinking. "I'm not in a position to make that sort of assessment."

Draco cut eyes at Harry for a moment and sucked another cube into his mouth. It bulged his cheek as he set it to the side to say, "Oh, I think you're the only one in a position to make that sort of assessment." 

If that meant what Harry thought it meant... what he wanted it to mean... A thrill went through Harry's core at the notion that Draco still hadn't gone there with Kirley. Part of him wanted to just believe that and not ask for clarification, but the needy part of his brain wouldn't let it go. Screwing up his courage, he sorted words to ask, but instead felt a pull on his shoulder and was whirled around to see Hermione.

It wasn't that Hermione was a particularly large girl. Really, she was fairly small, but her choice of wardrobe often lead to unfortunate rolls of flesh that hung over a too-tight leather skirt and a sequined halter that did little to prop up her sagging tits. Harry only had a moment to contemplate this before she threw herself at him for a drunken embrace. 

"Oh my, Harry! Someone's happy to see me!" she exclaimed, pulling back to look pointedly at the front of his jeans. 

"Erm, that's not for um... that's... er... what are you doing here?" asked Harry, not sure what else to say. He wanted to shriek that it had nothing to do with her at all, but that would certainly reveal that he had one to Draco, and wouldn't be very nice to Hermione. 

"Oh, I just had to get out of the house and I heard there was a show and I just love the Weird Sisters!" Hermione exclaimed.

Harry furrowed his brows. He hadn't remembered her ever mentioning them in particular, but then, she had changed a lot, and perhaps this was just one of the many things he hadn't known that came bubbling to the surface after her "summer makeover." On the bright side, her presence was wilting his erection, so at least he wouldn't have to face Draco with that again. 

"Oh yeah, they're great," said Harry.

"Granger." Draco's voice drawled with the full tilt of his aristocratic derision. "Long time, no...see." 

"Malfoy," she answered her voice wobbly and eyes wide. Hermione had never really been afraid of Malfoy before, but perhaps Ron had told her about his super-skills, because now she was cowering. 

"Oh yes, I'm seeing most everything now, aren't I?" Draco languorously dragged himself from the bar, all eyes and calculation as he crossed to them. He crouched to get them eye-to-eye, Draco searching hers for a moment until something seemed to click. Straightening, he peered down at her imperiously. "Not quite yourself, are you, Granger?" 

Hermione balked, going pale and taking a few steps back. "You've always been such an arsehole. I wish you'd just died in the war!"

"Hermione!" Harry wasn't sure what to say when they both looked at him. It wasn't as if he'd expected that they'd become friends, but he really wouldn't have expected Hermione to behave that way.

"I don't care what anyone says or thinks. I know you're still a big, ugly, nasty bigot!"

Already she was fleeing them, winding her way through the crowd. Harry watched her retreat as he heard Draco laughing behind him. Sometimes, he really hated how cruel Draco could be. But by the same token, Draco hadn't really said anything to merit the overblown reaction. 

Deciding to stay and talk to Draco about it, Harry turned to find that somehow Ron had gotten past him and was now in Draco's face.

"What did you say to her?" growled Ron. He grabbed the front of Draco's burgundy robes, pulling their faces close. His other hand clenched and unclenched, a tell-tale sign that he really wanted to punch Draco but questioned the wisdom of doing so. 

"I said she wasn't herself," said Draco. His face was placid, not at all the wailing infant he'd been in school. He was relaxed against the constraints of the fabric, leaning into them so casually that it was clear he didn't consider Ron a threat. "And she isn't, is she... Won-Won?" 

Harry thought for certain that the old nickname was going to push Ron to beat Draco down, but instead, he just stared at Draco. His clenching hand fell limp by his side and then Ron let Draco go completely. "You've no idea what you're on about, Malfoy."

Draco let out a derisive huff and rolled his eyes. "Of course I don't. I'm way off base. She's exactly as she's always been. Out of my way, Weasley." 

Pushing Ron aside, Draco mumbled another incantation and three people were zapped back from the stage. 

Kirley looked up and beamed at Draco and announced to the crowd that he was going to start. "This first song is for my dear, sweet dragon who watches out for me." 

Ron muttered, "This is bollocks. Come on, Harry." 

As much as Harry wanted to stay and ask what the shit everyone was on about, the combination of Ron tugging him away to sulk and that Kirley Duke had evidently written a song about Draco was more than enough impetus to leave. 

He looked back at Draco as he was being dragged away. Draco was watching him leave, ignoring the first few strains of "his song" to fellate another piece of ice at Harry.

Oh sweet dragon prince,  
Won't you come home to me?  
Open your door and give me the love  
You know I'm dying for 

The combination of jealousy, arousal and utter confusion about what had transpired between the Weasleys and Draco was more than a match for Harry's mental bandwidth. He was relieved when Ron pulled him through the crowd, out into the night and dragged him to a less packed bar to rant about how much of a tosser Draco still was. At the moment, Harry was inclined to agree.

\--

Though they hadn't really spoken since receiving their assignment, Harry was quite glad to be out of the office and breathing in the fresh salt air of Whitecliff Bay. The campsite at the holiday park had been cleared of civilians as best as it could be so that the Veela population of London could have their mating rites on the designated day in peace. 

The Aurors were assigned there to keep the general population from the rite. Owing to the preternatural lure that was intrinsic to Veela, often a high density of them in one place attracted a human contingent. 

"That's how Fleurs happen," Draco had added helpfully. 

Harry was an obvious choice for the assignment, in Kingsley's view, because he had proven impervious to Veela charms. Kingsley had also complimented Draco's highly-tuned Occlumency skills which he thought made them the perfect team to keep the peace. Draco had become strangely quiet in light of the load of flattery and had said very little since. 

The plan was for them to stay the night to guard the revels while keeping as hidden as possible. While the Ministry found the idea of interspecies relations alarming, the Veela had no such personal restrictions on mating on this particular night. 

As the campsite was large and offered little in the way of natural cover, Draco suggested that they split the area to put up magical wards against humans. Obviously, their magic would not restrict magical beasts, which meant that it would be easy and undetectable for the lascivious Veela to pass in and out of the locale. It also meant that any other beasts might enter the area and have their way with the tarts, but that was hardly of Ministry concern. 

To the north of the camp was a small wood, mostly for privacy and to shield the view of the road behind it. They were close enough to distantly hear the shore, but the view had obviously disappointed Draco, even though he made no comment outside of a quiet, "Hmpf."

Draco finished first and set up a small camp with a large cushion for them to share with a few blankets. Harry tried not to stare at Draco's arse when he bent over to spread out the blankets. It was so rare that Draco wore trousers and these clung to him a little too well. Tearing his gaze away, he noted an open hamper with provisions of tea, coffee, and Coq au Vin that continued to simmer in two small square containers.

"I half expected it to be sushi," said Harry after sniffing the French chicken stew.

"Those are bento boxes if that makes you feel better." 

It was the first smile Harry had seen him crack that day and he was pleased that some of the tension was broken. "That is a relief."

For a moment, Draco just looked at Harry, studying him curiously. He felt a nudge at his mind, but it went away before he even had to block it. Draco blushed and looked away. "Sorry, habit. Anyway... seems you're catching on to the Japanese theme, hm? Brighter than I would've thought. I'll have to be more subtle."

"So is that where your monastery was? Is that where you've learned your mad ninja skills?" Harry took a seat on the cushion and bounced. "Thought we'd be on the ground."

"Ninja wizard, hm? Sure, why not?" Draco took the spot next to him and poured them each a cup of tea. "I figured if the orgy was boring, we could watch in shifts. I leave sitting on the dirty ground to the beasts." 

"It's not an orgy! It's a mating ritual!" Harry was glad of his cup to hide behind as his cheeks flushed. He wondered if sleeping was really what Draco intended with the bed. Surely by now he wasn't that naive. As much as Harry wanted to call him on it, he didn't want to sour any chance he might have of shagging him.

"Right, well, there's going to be fucking. Between a lot of people. You say tomato, I say orgy." 

Harry shifted uncomfortably at the idea of watching an orgy with Draco. It wouldn't exactly provide a legitimate excuse for them to fuck. After all, if he was likely to be affected by the Veela, he wouldn't be here. Neither would Draco. Up until this point, Harry hadn't thought about what they were going to protect in terms of being an actual sex act. Veela were magical creatures, so it shouldn't be sexy. 

Except, he did remember the Veela at the Quidditch Cup and they really were beautiful... women. "Wait, aren't all Veela women?"

Draco wrinkled his nose and asked, "What would make you think that?"

"Well, they were at the Quidditch World Cup... and Fleur's a Veela... and there were rumors about your mum, even. All girls." Finishing his tea, he set the mug down, settling it in the grass. 

"Now I know you were blowing Hagrid for grades if you are that ignorant about magical creatures." Draco rolled his eyes and poured Harry another cup from the enchanted kettle that kept the tea at precisely right temperature, tasting freshly brewed every time. "How would they breed if there were only females? That doesn't even make sense, Potter."

Blinking, Harry tried to recall the Veela lesson and drew a blank. Then he thought about the mechanics of wrapping his mouth around a giant's cock and squicked himself. He knew that Draco was being facetious, but he didn't like the implication that he'd put his mouth around anyone's cock but Draco's. Discussing that, however, would mean admitting his inexperience yet again and revisiting the subject of Hagrid's prick, which he wasn't keen on doing. "I guess I thought they were like The Smurfs."

"Smurfs?"

Sometimes Harry forgot about the holes in Wizard-to-Muggle culture. He tried to think of how to explain Smurfs. "Well, they're these little blue creatures, two apples high. They're car--"

"Whatever, I hated that class and didn't take the advanced. Are they dangerous?"

"Erm... no, not dangerous at all, they're actually on the--"

"Right well, then who cares? The important thing is that there are male and female Veela who will be covering this field with spunk, not just female Veela. The Bulgarians just had female Veela like Muggles have female cheerleaders. It was entertainment and the female Veela are generally more comfortable for Quidditch watchers to be attracted to. Well, most, anyway."

Draco lay back on the cushion, wadding up the blanket to rest his head on and closed his eyes. 

Though Harry felt like he should explain the Smurfs further to Draco, it was evident he didn't much care. It was a pity he didn't, as Harry really wanted to share his thoughts on an all-male society and the cultural implications of homosexual relations within the confines of this small, blue world. He wondered how Smurfs managed to go by unscathed when the Teletubbies were reviled as homosexual. But Draco would have no idea about those either, and Harry had no fucking clue how to explain them. So instead, he just watched the first few Veela appear in the field and begin their extravagant mating dance.

The dance itself seemed to have an underlying rhythm and contained many swoops and swirls that weren't unlike the dances that emo kids with pale faces and smudged kohl around their eyes tended to do. There would be a few steps forward, a few back, many turns and then the surprise and fright of the full angered Veela, bird-like and pecking at each other's faces. While the creatures maintained a human facade that was quite dazzling, their bodies seemed to lose definition when they commingled, wrapping around each other in flashes of feather and skin to ivory bone till their cries pierced the air.

Harry wasn't affected by the waves of lusty magic that emanated like ripples of a pond towards him, but he felt the surges brushing past like fingers across his cheek. It caused an uncomfortable tingle of attraction and want in the pit of his stomach that he hoped wasn't due to watching creatures mating. But then, they were humanoid... sometimes. He turned to see how Draco was taking this, figuring he had it so blocked out that he was likely bored, but Draco was still reclined.

His arms were folded over his face in the way that Harry knew from their fucking that Draco often did when he was aroused and ashamed of it. Scanning down his lean torso, he watched the way that his chest rose and fell at an accelerated pace and his body writhed against the cushion. Allowing himself a peek at Draco's trousers and saw them tented. 

While the vision of the Veela had caused a tingle in his belly, Harry could most definitely not resist the lure of Draco squirming and erect. He felt the blood pooling and his cock twitching with interest. Harry reminded himself that they were here to do a job, that he was Draco's partner and it was his duty to keep him from getting carried away if he was unable to resist the charm of the Veela.

Just then it occurred to him that what he was witnessing wasn't caused by him. Draco was hard because of those creatures. The notion twisted Harry around, dizzying him with a possessive fury that caught on the wind and blew hard through the sprouting leaves on the trees and scattered their fallen brethren around him. He grabbed Draco's cock through his pants, closing his fingers around the rigidity as if to say, mine. 

"Haaarrryyyy... doooon't." 

The plaintiveness of Draco's wail in and of itself would not have been enough to shake Harry from his gathering mood, but the fact that his first name drawled out from under Draco's arms did get his attention. Harry pulled his hand back, leaving Draco to pump blindly into the emptiness.

"What is going on, Mal-- Dra-- What's going on?" Harry sat up on his knees and gave a quick glance to the Veela. The few that had been on the field were joined by many others and he heard a sudden, wispy music like tonal Parseltongue wafting in their direction. For a moment Harry wondered if that was what people affected heard, and if he was about to be caught up in it all, but as his mind was still fixed on Draco, he decided that was not the case. 

"I... It's... I..." Under his arms, Draco's face was pale and seemed to almost sparkle in the twilight. 

Something was happening, something more than what Harry had witnessed happening to Ron back at the Quidditch World Cup. Firmly, he grabbed Draco's elbows and pried his arms from his face to look into his straining features. Perhaps it was a trick of the light that made Draco suddenly so mesmerizing. His lashes seemed darker; his hair shone brightly, waving platinum locks splayed around his head like a shining crown. 

It wasn't until Draco opened his eyes that Harry really understood that there was something truly amiss. He'd always taken the terms "shimmering orbs" or "eyes like reflective pools" as severe poetic license, but Draco's eyes had really turned from their normal grey to a reflective silver. They glittered in intense reflection of the blue hour, eerie and queer, as fierce as they were beautiful. 

"Are you still... Malfoy?" asked Harry slowly, eyes narrowed in his concern that Draco might be possessed.

Watching Draco roll his eyes had never been quite so dazzling. "Don't be stupid. Of course I am." 

"But you're..." 

"As it turns out... the rumors about my mum were true," said Draco, a little meekly. He sat up on his elbows and twisted uncomfortably, his face bunched up as he fought arousal. 

"Oh." Harry didn't know what to say. Part of him wanted to point out what a narrow view Draco always had on half-breeds and half-bloods and how ironic he was one, but then, Voldemort had been worse about it. As he thought about it, he did note that mostly he called Hagrid an oaf and Tonks clumsy. He'd been rather politic about their blood, all things considered. "Well, that's... I mean... kind of cool, right?"

Harry wrinkled his nose at himself. Maybe it was and maybe it wasn't, but right now was perhaps not the time to marvel over it. 

"Black family was kind of... kinky," said Draco between puffs of air. He slid his hand down his pants and started to fondle himself. 

All Harry could do for a moment was watch the motion of the fabric, knowing that Draco's hand was wrapped around himself and that he was lying right there next to him tossing himself off. "Guess so, what with Tonks and all. That was from the Black genes too, yeah?"

"Mmhmm..." answered Draco. He'd sucked his lips into his mouth and opened his glittering eyes to watch Harry's face intently again. "You can't... let me go out... there.... I'll... want to, probably."

"You're part of them, aren't you? Shouldn't you go?" Even as Harry said it, he knew he wouldn't be able to stand watching Draco out there cavorting with the others. He leaned over to place his hand on the other side of Draco's hip, resting his weight across Draco's legs. 

Draco shook his head. "No. M' human. I thought... I thought that I'd be impervious..." He laughed sickly and shook his head. "Not so much."

"You've always known?" asked Harry. Draco shifted down the cushion and now rutted his cock against Harry's hip. As little as the Veela did for him, Harry was going to have a hard time resisting that. He brought his other hand around and wrapped it around Draco's wanking hand. 

"Yesss..." Draco answered. Or at least Harry thought that was an answer to his question. Flopping against the cushions, Draco released his cock to let Harry do the work. Part Veela or not, the gesture was pure Draco and Harry couldn't help but grin. "Intensified my magic a bit."

"Oh," said Harry. It made more sense now, at least in where the sheer force of his power came from. How he'd learned to control it was still a mystery. Fleur was powerful, but he'd never seen her pull some of the stunts Draco had. In fact, of the contestants of the Triwizard Tournament, she'd been the weakest. This was an opportune moment to ask, but Harry couldn't focus on business. Not with Draco's hips shifting him hard into Harry's hand, fucking it mercilessly. 

It felt like Draco was about to come and Harry was staring down at the shiny head poking out through his fist, obscured by unfastened jeans and the white briefs, when he was thrown back. Harry landed awkwardly sprawled with his shoulders on the hard ground. The force of the blow had nearly knocked the wind out of him.

Before him, Draco stood, tearing off his own clothing, rending his shirt to nothing but fragmented tatters. His nails had grown long and sharp so that when he traced them along the seam of his trousers, they split and fell away uselessly. It left Draco standing there in the bright light of the waning moon porcelain and mysterious, his expression fiercely focused and aroused. 

As Draco took his first step towards the field, Harry desperately grabbed Draco's calf. It did little to deter Draco, as he kept moving, dragging Harry through the wasted leaves and nettles. Harry clung, trying not to panic. He wouldn't be able to stand it if he couldn't stop Draco from doing this. He felt the queasiness set in at the idea and it fired up his wrath at the notion of Draco in the midst of a huge orgy. 

Again the wind started to pick up, all but blocking out the soft whisper of music. Draco stopped and Harry looked up to see the other Veela looking at them both. Assuming it was reflex that had gotten his wand into his hand, Harry hexed Draco to freeze. He worried that it wouldn't work if Draco was part magical creature, but it had definitely slowed him down.

Harry's frenzy quelled some and the wind began to dissipate. He heard the music picking up again, which caused Draco to twitch. Part of Draco, at least in the presence of the other Veela, was creature. Therefore, Harry would not be able to control Draco by magical means alone. 

"Levicorpus!" said Harry. He had to help the spell physically, but it lightened Draco enough that he could easily carry him back to their camp. He peered over his shoulder briefly to see if any of the Veela were going to chase them off, but they seemed quite busy with their own revels. 

Placing Draco on the cushion, he stared down into Draco's face, trying to see past the defiance to know that this was what Draco wanted. He postulated that perhaps the need to come was driving Draco's primal needs. Tossing him off was probably the wrong thing to do, but now he lay there, his cock purpled and stiff, looking painful with want. 

Draco twitched again and Harry fretted for how well magic was going to hold. 

"Incarcerous!" Harry concentrated on the ropes that shot out of the air, watching them wrap around Draco's wrists. They tugged his arms up tightly over his head and then wound around the trunk of a thick tree behind them. 

The binding seemed to awaken some rebellious and bestial part of Draco and he broke through the stunning spell and began to thrash, kicking his legs wildly. Harry bound them with spells, each ankle to a different tree. He would rationalize later that it was easier that way, although now that Draco was fully pinned down with his legs spread wide, leaving him open and merciless to Harry's whims, he couldn't deny wanting him just like this. 

He pocketed his wand, watching Draco twitch and cavort against his bindings, his chest heaving and his lips open, puffing into the cooling air. Everything was a varied shade of blue, from his lips to his pale face, down to the shining curls and the deep purple blue of his cock. Draco's thighs flexed as he tried to twist his hips, tried to find something for his rigid cock to slide against. He whined and cooed, trying to dig his heels into the mattress to make something move, to gain some sort of touching, some friction.

"Potter... Harry... please!" 

As thrilling as it was to watch Draco so desperate to get off, to hear the frustrated mewls, hearing him begging for it send a shiver down Harry's spine. He questioned himself as to whether it was exactly moral to take Draco like this. As much as he was clearly gagging for it, it was something he couldn't control. Their consent had always been at least somewhat shaded by dubiousness, but Draco had always given the final okay. 

"God, I need to come. Potter, get your stupid fucking face down here and suck my cock." 

Whatever debate he was having about the morality of monster or no monster evaporated. Harry dropped to his knees between Draco's legs, remembering how he'd sucked him off before, the way that Draco filled his mouth, the way he tasted when he came. But then, he felt a sudden thrill of power over Draco. As if every nasty name he'd ever called him, every vile trick, that stupid fucking "Potter Stinks" pin all came to the forefront of his consciousness. 

Dragging his fingers along the insides of Draco's thighs, he said, "Why should I do that, Malfoy?" 

"You know you want to."

Harry grinned as Draco froze at his touch. He brought his hands just close enough to warm Draco's balls, then dragged his fingers back and splayed them over the tops of his thighs. He enjoyed Draco's loud groan of pain. "Are you sure I want to?" 

Draco flexed his lithe body, trying to shift around to force Harry's hand to his cock. The weight of his prick swung heavily over his abdomen, leaving a dotted sticky trail along his skin. Mercilessly, Harry brought his hands to Draco's hips, caressing them in slow circles. 

Panting, Draco said, "Yes. You do. I know you do. You love fucking me." 

"I do it for the job," said Harry. He knew his tone sounded defensive, but Draco never gave any real indication at how much he enjoyed it, so why should he? 

"Right, whatever. Touch me." Draco shifted again and Harry pinned his hips down.

"I'm not going to touch your cock until you admit that you like me fucking you." 

Harry looked over his shoulder at the Veela, concerned that Draco's arousal might attract them. He was, after all, part Veela. It appeared that the Veela were quite content with one another. Harry figured Draco had too little creature in him to be particularly notable to them. He glanced again for humans, and satisfied that all was well, he turned his attention back to Draco.

"I do it for the job," Draco mimicked, his voice trembling. He yanked his arms down so hard that Harry thought he might dislocate his shoulder, but the bindings held fast.

"You missed your chance, Malfoy. I'm not going to touch your cock now." Harry smirked fiendishly at Draco's subsequent wail and the way that he glared down at Harry with pure resentment.

"You're a prick. All your friends are pricks. Fucking touch me or fucking go away, you stupid fuck."

Harry didn't answer him, but simply pushed two fingers into his mouth, swirling his tongue around them as he bunched up saliva around them. He pulled his fingers out dripping wet with saliva that shimmered in the moonlight. He traced his fingers around Draco's opening, careful to keep his hand neutrally between Draco's splayed thighs.

Pushing through the ring of muscle, he felt the warm thickness inside. Draco tensed and then twisted, forcing Harry's fingers inside of him to his pressure point and thrust against his fingers like a whore. 

"Look how much you love it when I fuck you, Malfoy. I don't even have my cock out and you're taking it like a greedy little slut, aren't you?" There was just something about watching Draco like this, completely at the mercy of his lust, his face pained and his body acting almost of its own accord. 

Draco didn't answer, but kept pushing solidly against Harry's fingers, twisting his head to the side to hide his face against his flexing bicep. What could he say? It was obvious how much he loved it.

With his other hand, Harry unfastened his trousers and pushed them down as best he could. All he really had to do was keep his fingers straight; Draco did all of the work, his ass pulling and sucking at Harry desperately. 

"You're going to come just from my fingers, aren't you? You want my cock in you so badly, don't you? Admit you want me to fuck you, Malfoy. Tell me you want Harry Potter's cock in your arse." 

Draco whimpered and pushed harder against Harry's fingers. To Harry's surprise, it seemed that Draco really was going to come on just his fingers. He curled them forward, pressing his prostate mercilessly and watched as Draco's body tensed, his chest raised and his head thrown back as he gasped for breath. He was beautiful when he came, arched up as his cock twitched and pearly come wetted his abdomen. 

Harry had wrapped his hand around himself and pulled slowly, regretting now that he'd worked Draco up that much. Now that Draco didn't need him to come, he really would be taking advantage to fuck him now.

"I love it when you fuck me."

It was mumbled so quietly that had it not caught on the breeze, Harry might not have heard it. He looked up at Draco's face, a darker shade of blue from effort. His eyes still glimmered and reflected, but they were softened by a strange fondness. 

Pulling his fingers from inside of Draco, he smeared the come on his abdomen and slicked it over his cock. He wanted to ask if Draco was sure, or if that was all it was, just another fuck, but his need was almost as urgent as Draco's had been a moment before. 

Harry crawled up Draco's body, lining himself up with his opening and pushed into him. Already Draco was hard again against his belly and Harry took special care to press against it. It was awkward since Draco was tied up. Each thrust into him made him groan and his hands flexed as his legs were pulled further apart and the ropes bit into his wrists. 

Harry wrapped his arms tighter around Draco, digging his knees into the cushion for as much leverage as he could get. He tried to minimize the impact of the thrusts by taking them shallower and quicker, loving the slide of Draco's warm insides sucking around his cock.

But mostly, Harry loved the memory of that meek admittance. "Say it again."

"I love it when you fuck me," Draco breathed into Harry's ear, pushing back against him while trying to keep their bodies pressed together as tightly as they could. 

Maybe it was just the night, or maybe it was the beast in Draco that spoke for him, but whatever it was, Harry held fast to it, feeling the whispered words swirling around his head with the memory of Draco's desperate thrashing and the hot pull of being inside of him. Inside of Draco. Connected to him for just these brief moments where he felt like Draco was his and his alone, and would only ever belong to him. 

He dug his nails into Draco's back, wanting to mark him, to leave scratches and bites so that anyone who tried to touch him would see. 

He bit down on Draco's neck as he came, grunting wildly as if he'd turned into an animal himself, feeling it shoot into Draco's passage, making it wetter and slipperier with each subsequent thrust. He felt a countering wetness between them along with Draco's shudder against him. 

Harry kissed all over Draco's face and bit his neck again, claiming his throat and his jaw line as he drug his nails down his pale back. He could picture the hot pink welts, felt Draco tensing beneath him, heard the hisses and gasps and loved each one. 

When he reached the small of Draco's back, he went limp on top of him, dead weight crushing Draco down as he breathed against his neck. He wanted to tell Draco that he was his; that he would always be his, but even after all of that, he wasn't sure. So instead of speaking, he just remained there, lodged inside of Draco, clinging madly to him and listening to the whisper-song of the frenzying Veela. 

\--

The next morning proved less embarrassing than Harry would've imagined. It seemed that he had dozed off at some point, because when he awoke, he was fully dressed. Draco was likewise attired and was sitting on the edge of the large cushion eating his stew. He nodded to Harry in recognition of his being awake.

"I... you were tied up..." said Harry, gesturing to the trees as he tried to shake the muzzy feeling away. The Coq au Vin smelled delicious. Even though it wasn't exactly a breakfast food, Harry was starving. It occurred to him this was the first time he'd woken up with Draco, which pleased him but also left him scrambling for what to say.

"Yes, well, wandless magic," said Draco. He waved his fork in the air uselessly to indicate magic and Harry noticed he hadn't spelled away the rope burn. 

Adjusting his glasses, he noticed the bite marks on Draco's neck that were also still there. Perhaps he hadn't noticed it or would tend to them later. For now, Harry took joy in seeing them before grabbing his box of food from the hamper. 

"You didn't use your magic last night," Harry pointed out after a couple of bites. It took him that long to think of it, yes, but in his defense, he was rather sleepy. 

Draco cleared his throat and set his box down before charming it closed again and leaned across Harry to put it back in the hamper. "I was a little distracted." 

Memories of the night and the distractions flooded Harry's brain, both bigger and smaller and he grinned at the thought. "Did you mean what you said last night? I mean... not about wanting to come... but about... me?"

Harry caught the flush of Draco's cheeks before Draco could get away and whirl around. "I've no memory of last night. No clue what you might think I'd've said. But I was not quite myself, obviously." 

That contradicted what he'd just said about being distracted, plus the blush further damned Draco to lying, but Harry would let him have it for now. "Oh, well, I guess it doesn't matter. I was just going to say that I love it, too. But I guess it doesn't matter since you'd have no clue what I was on about. This is really good, Malfoy. You could be a chef." 

Draco was quiet for a while, facing the field where the Veela had been. His finger traced over a bite mark on his neck slowly as he pondered whatever things that he would think about in such moments. "We should get back. You can keep the box if you enjoy it."

He turned around and caught Harry's glance, his eyes sharp and most definitely back to grey. There was a strange momentary sparkle to them, Harry thought, but it vanished quickly and Harry complied by putting his food away and helped break camp.

\--

Though Harry was bone tired, Draco had the notion that putting their reports in now would be a better idea than sleeping and coming in later. It was so early that no one was around, which made for a quiet trudge down the hall after exiting the lift to head to the Auror offices. 

Down the way, a door opened and an attractive Asian man stepped out of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office. Harry barely had time to recognize the man as the one he'd seen before on the street when Draco was playing at being a whore when he was jerked through a door into an empty office. 

Draco pushed him further into the office and rallied behind the door. He enchanted the closed door transparent and watched the man walking past. It occurred to Harry that Draco might not have recognised him right off. It made sense since he'd presumably stayed up all night. He hoped Draco stayed up all night and that no Muggles ended up in the revel, anyway. 

A moment later Percy Weasley, who had taken up the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office a few years after his father was promoted out of it, passed by, looking far too pleased with himself. Draco released the spell and Harry was suddenly very aware of how reliant the room had been on the outside light. 

"Is that bad?" he asked, uncomfortable that he couldn't see Draco's face. 

"I don't see how it could be good." The rustle and clunk indicated Draco was leaning against the door.

Harry felt out of his element. He had no idea what was going on or who that man was, but he did know that Percy had a taste for ambition. "Who is that guy?"

Draco sighed. He didn't sound impatient as much as just very, very tired. "He's a very bad man. That's all I'll say in these offices."

With a click, Harry heard the door open and the dull lamplight spread in as the door opened. The sliver of light that passed over Draco's face exposed a very worried expression. As much as Harry wanted to ask more about it, he understood what Draco was saying about speaking here. The Ministry itself had ears, and he wasn't even sure what office they'd landed in.

"All right. We'll talk about it later," said Harry as he followed Draco out of the office. 

He was shutting the door when he felt Draco's hand on his shoulder. "Thanks."

"S'what partners do, right?" 

The distant look on Draco's face confused him and he knew he must've said the wrong thing. "Quite. So, to those reports." 

Draco turned on his heel and sped down to corridor before Harry could respond. Taking a deep breath, Harry followed.


	6. Episode 6: Delusions of Granger

"Potter, we need to talk." 

Harry turned around in his chair to see Draco leaning against the frame of his cubicle. His blond hair was a bit tousled and he looked a bit worse for wear, like he hadn't slept at all the night before. The fact that Draco had come in late hadn't escaped his attention, either. The seriousness of Draco's tone made his stomach tighten with worry that Draco had finally done the deed with Kirley Duke and was going to tell him that they needed to stop having it off together.

"I've time," said Harry. Already he was trying to control his emotions. He couldn't afford to lose his shit at the office. Kingsley wouldn't look kindly upon Harry's wild magic turning all of the cubes from grey to red. Or flattening the Ministry. 

"It's about what happened the other night... this morning... whatever." Draco gave him a meaningful look, turning his head down and raising his eyebrows.

"Is it about Duke?" Harry gripped his mug tightly, hoping that would be enough to vent his worry.

"What? No." Draco's mystified expression eased Harry's tension. "He's nothing to do with this. At all. It's about... well... you know..." 

Harry tried to tie together what they'd done with Draco's current state. Late in the morning and looking ill... "Are you up the duff?"

It was pretty evident that this was another question out of left field as far as Draco was concerned. At first he just said, "No," and looked for all the world that he was going to go on about what he did want to talk about, but instead his face screwed up in mortified shock. "What?"

"I mean... you're not... because you're part..." Harry looked around as if he could see past the cubicle walls. As he couldn't, he stood up and got closer to Draco. "Part Veela."

Draco's mouth dropped open and his brows furrowed as he just stared at Harry. "I'm a man."

"Yeah. I noticed that. But... I don't know, I thought maybe because you're... you know..."

"You think that being fractionally a Veela means that my colon could become a uterus?" Draco took a step back from Harry and crossed his arms.

"When you put it that way it sounds dumb. It's a magical creature. There are potions that can make a man--" Harry protested.

Before he could say another word, Draco clapped his hand over Harry's mouth and cupped the back of his head with the other. "Not another word, Potter. I don't know... where your head is at... but just... no." He looked hard at Harry again and then let go of him.

"I just read it somewhere."

"Oh my god, Potter. I don't want to know what kind of kinky things you read and fantasize about. I wanted to set up a time with you to talk about what we saw here when we got back!" 

"Oh." That had vexed him, too. Harry was ashamed that he'd let his hopes Draco might want to talk about the sex they were having get in the way of business. "We could talk tonight. I could come over."

"I could go over to your place, even," said Draco. He was still looking at Harry as if he was a sick pervert, but at least he wasn't saying anything about it. 

"Oh, well, I... that's... complicated." Harry was still living in Grimmauld Place which had the Fidelius Charm on it. As the Secret Keeper was long dead, it was impossible to tell Draco where he lived. He could and probably should get the charm broken; he just hadn't had a compelling reason to do so before now. "My house is... hidden."

"I see. Well then, I suppose my flat will have to do." Draco looked strangely uncomfortable with Harry coming over and Harry wondered if Kirley had moved in. "Half eight, then. Bring takeaway-- the Vindaloo 'round the corner is decent." 

"Should I bring enough for three?" Harry almost didn't want to ask that question, fearing what the answer might be.

"I'm not pregnant, Potter!" Draco blurted out. There was a nervous silence and then tittering from the surrounding otherwise silent Aurors. Sulking, Draco shot Harry a glare. "Git."

Harry pressed his lips together to keep from snickering himself and shook his head. "I was asking about your musician friend."

Draco mouthed an oh and shook his head. "He's not invited."

That didn't really answer the question as to whether he was living with Draco or not, but Harry decided not to press his luck. Kirley wouldn't be there and that was good enough for him. "All right. I'll see you tonight, then."

\--

It wasn't his fault that he was running a few minutes late. Harry was already trying to form the excuses that he thought might work best. Really, the people in the curry shop were less interested in getting him his order and more interesting in gossiping in a language Harry wished he could understand. There were charms for that, but off the top of his head he couldn't think of any and really, it was hardly the point. The Vindaloo was the point, and his anxiousness to see Draco and find out what he'd entrust him with. 

He was consulting his gold reflection in the patina'ed steel when the lift chimed and the doors rolled open. Taking a step out, he stopped cold at the vision of Captain Cheese himself sitting against the door holding a vase with what appeared to be a floral hedge. It gave him an instant headache.

"All right there, Duke?" asked Harry. He gamely tried to be polite, although Kirley Duke's presence was surely the most vexing he could imagine.

"He's not there," said Kirley. He rolled up onto his stilt-like legs which made him stand unsettlingly taller than Harry by a few inches.

"Maybe he's just not answering the door for you. I'm expected." Maybe Ron was right that Draco was rubbing off on him. Normally he wasn't quite so snarky, but he was suddenly feeling very much on the defensive.

"Business dinner?" Kirley asked, sniffing at the air. "Vindaloo. He loves it, but it's too spicy for him. But I suppose that doesn't matter for business purposes." 

Dinner menus weren't normally quite so exasperating, but suddenly Harry wanted to smash the food over the side of Kirley's smug face and stomp on his body until his ribs cracked. It wasn't really Kirley's fault that Draco had chosen food that might give him a convenient out for shenanigans later, although it did occur to Harry that Draco might've been using it as an excuse for Kirley. "Well, I wouldn't know. He's never complained about food to me."

"You're just his partner, I don't know why he would," Kirley shot back. 

In spite of his quick retort, he was bristling and Harry decided to try and be optimistic that he'd hit a nerve. After all, Draco had clearly stated that he wasn't having it off with Kirley. Besides, what man would bring flowers to someone they'd already shagged? He looked down awkwardly at his own hands bearing no such luxuries. 

But then, this was just a business dinner, he reminded himself. It wasn't like Draco brought him gifts. Other than that netsuke. That priceless artifact. He hadn't taken credit for buying it, but then Harry could scarcely imagine Draco playing with a functioning puzzle toy without knowing its precise origins. He was entirely too cautious for that. 

"Oh yes, I'm just the person who spends fourty hours a week plus overtime with him. Just the person who was invited over when you did not merit an invitation and are slumped in front of his door like a lovelorn fanboy. Now, move out of my way." Harry could definitely tell he hit a nerve this time by the way Kirley's face flushed and his body shook. He was quite proud of himself before the guilt started kicking in. That had been cruel, but then, Kirley really had brought it on himself. 

Shrugging it off, Harry rang the bell and waited expectantly. After a few minutes, he rang the chime again, tilting his head to hear the chime go off inside. Still nothing. He waited a couple more minutes and shot a look to Kirley, who was simply standing there glaring. 

"Maybe he just doesn't want to see you when he comes out. We had a meeting." That was uncharitable, but at the moment, his momentary guilt had eroded and he was left feeling foolish and stood up. Granted, he was just there to talk about work and this wasn't a social call, but Kirley had put him on the defensive about his relationship with Draco and he really wanted to talk to him about it. 

Even if it wasn't his right to ask, he thought as he pounded on the door, he felt he should know exactly why Draco was allowing Kirley to hang around. He hadn't seen any terribly incriminating photos in the Prophet of late, but who knew what that really meant? 

In the last article, he could almost glean a faint look of disgust and Draco pulling away before Kirley kissed him, but it was hard to say where truth and fancy bid a fond but reluctant farewell. Looking at Kirley, however, Harry thought he was right on the money. 

"Fine. But if he is in there, tell the little ponce that I'm running out of patience with his games." Kirley smacked Harry's shoulder hard as he passed and then binned the flowers before pressing the lift button.

Harry wanted to give an amen to that, or even a here, here. He himself was pretty tired of Draco's games, but then he was at least getting some and had an appointment. He stood at the door, deciding to stare at it instead of the back of Kirley's hostile head until he heard the lift close and chime down to the next floor.

Ringing and knocking again, Harry still had no answer. He set the cooling food down and pulled his wand, trying to decide what he should do. The segment of him that was hurt by this perceived mistreatment was giving way to a sudden paranoia that Draco might not be able to answer the door. To some that might've seemed an arrogant assumption, but given who and what they were, the idea was logical. 

For all of his teasing and game-playing, Draco was deadly serious when it came to his job, and Harry assumed that he was just as serious about this mysterious Japanese man. He started chanting incantations, starting with the most standard for breaking wards. He'd've been disappointed if it had been that easy to get into Draco's flat, but the routine gave him somewhere else for his mind to go.

The disturbing notions of what he might find behind the mahogany door were too vivid given what he'd seen during the war. He wasn't sure he could bear it. But then, he would have to. Doing the right thing was just who he was, and emotions had to wait their turn.

As he started to weave through to the most arcane of curse-breaking spells that he knew, Harry started to get the sinking feeling that this wasn't going to work. A paranoid Auror could throw a roadblock on his home that could take weeks to break if he were so inclined. Draco definitely seemed the sort that would be so inclined. 

Putting up an Impenetrable charm and an Invisibility spell, Harry set to work on the front door for hours. He thought to check the length of the wall, just to make sure Draco wasn't being lazy and only charmed the door itself. It was almost silly to believe that Draco wouldn't think to enchant the entire flat, but Harry was starting to feel hysterical with worry and trying everything. 

By the end of a few hours, Harry was pale, sweating and starving. He was losing all hope of getting into Draco's fortress and feared he might have to call the other Aurors in. He wasn't sure what they'd say about it. Depending on what Draco really was doing, it could look bad for him. Then again, Harry could be wasting valuable seconds that could save Draco's life. 

He was just about to give up and head back to the office when the door mysteriously clicked open. Warily, Harry entered with his wand out. In spite of how tired he was every muscle was tensed, ready for the attack.

Having never had a proper tour of Draco's flat, he wasn't sure if there were loads of Wizard Space rooms tacked on. Starting out in the entryway, Harry frightened himself with the mirror, starting at his own movement. He was glad he hadn't hexed himself. The living room was empty, sitting in its presumably usual blank slate state. The kitchen was immaculate. On impulse, Harry opened the fridge and found only a capsicum and tomato along with fresh milk. It was sort of bachelor-y, but not pathetic. 

Harry headed into Draco's bed and bath and found no trace of Draco there, either. The bed was neatly made in shades of blue, the bed simple and oak with classic lines. Unobtrusive, but inviting. Trying not to think of what Draco might look like splayed out over the bed, Harry headed into the bath. It was huge. If Wizard Space was being used, it was probably on the tub and the giant wardrobe. 

Evidently, Draco liked clothes. And shoes. There were fathomless rows upon rows of each, all categorized by season (he assumed since the jumpers were together) and color, making the space appear even longer as the hues lined up in subtle rainbows. The tub itself could seat at least four people and there were jets. Draco often seemed to prefer the Wizarding world almost to the point of fetish, so it was telling that he'd allow a tub with electric jets in his bath. At least he had those priorities straight. 

The guest bath was elegant, but unremarkable beyond the fact that Harry used it. Finally he entered the last room. He remembered seeing Draco with the katana, but that was just the start of his arsenal. All along the walls were various styles of weaponry that Harry couldn't even guess the names of. Weird hooked blades and numchucks, poles of varying sizes and an impressive sword collection. On one wall was a small desk with files neatly stacked and color coordinated. Harry crossed the room to read them, but as soon as he attempted to touch them, they vanished. 

"Hrmf." Harry crossed his arms and looked around the room, baffled. 

One thing was for certain. Draco Malfoy wasn't home.

Feeling as if he'd looked over the flat pretty well for Draco, Harry went through it once more in search of clues. Though he tried to keep calm, he had the definite uneasy feeling that if Draco did not want to be found, he wouldn't be. 

Worse yet, if someone had him and didn't want him to be found...

He couldn't think about that. Except that, he had to think about that if he was going to be effective at finding Draco. Though he hadn't really thought about it before, Draco had a multitude of enemies, far beyond those he tormented at school. If he really had bailed on the Death Eaters, then any one of them might want to hurt him. Then, there was the mysterious Japanese man that was meeting with Percy the other morning that Draco wanted to talk to him about. They'd played it pretty fast and loose around him in the alleyway, though. Draco either was confident in his disguise, or his bravado could've gotten him in trouble. Could Percy have told the Japanese man where Draco lived?

But that was stupid. Even Percy Weasley wouldn't have access to that kind of information. Sure, Harry had found him, but Harry was... an Auror of limited experience. No, that wasn't fair, because he had killed Lord Voldemort. He'd sought out and found Horcruxes... with the help of his friends. He'd call on them, but one was barely speaking to him and the other was hardly herself. He missed feeling as if he could count on them, but he supposed that people changed and it was idealistic to think that they would all be together as best friends forever. 

Now that he wasn't sure if he felt more panicked or maudlin, he decided he needed a change of scenery. He would go back to the beginning, the last place he'd seen Draco Malfoy: at work.

Not everyone could get into the Ministry at odd hours of the night and morning. Aurors had special dispensation to enter the Ministry at whim. At this hour, there would only be a few early risers that had negotiated to start work at this hour, but there were very few of those. Walking through the atrium of the Ministry on off hours was always creepy. The place was dead silent, and the torches burnt low, casting weird shadows over the once-broken Fountain of Magical Brethren. He was glad to see that in its repair, the centaur was looking to the stars instead of the humans. The goblin also seemed to have its own inscrutable task that was more important to it than others, but the house-elf was ever gazing adoringly up at the magic folk. 

Some things would never change. 

As he rode the lift to basement level two, Harry pondered whether Percy had special dispensation to be at the Ministry after hours. He was technically in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, although not especially connected. How hard would it be for him to follow Draco home? Would Draco have opened the door to him? 

Harry's robes billowed behind him as he made his way down the hall, praying for a sliver of light under Percy's door, hoping that he was there for him to put questions to. Alas, his door was dark and Harry walked the rest of the way to the Auror Headquarters. 

The more he thought on it, the more certain he was that Draco had been captured. At the time he'd been too exhausted to really think on the implications when the door opened itself after all of his working. It wouldn't have done that if Draco hadn't willed it to. Magic was irrevocably bound to the caster, a form of will sent out by their concentrating to make happen. This meant that if Draco was able to change the magic from wherever he was, he was obviously still alive, as magic left cast when a person dies remained as it was a the time of the magician's demise.

Had he any further doubts that Draco had been captured and wanting to leave clues, they fell dead like useless shells upon his entry into Draco's cubicle. The entire area was a blank slate, as it always was, neat as a pin with nary a scrap of dust or misplaced parchment, but for a small roll of parchment sitting on the middle of his desk.

Harry fled for it. Obviously, whatever was written here would lead Harry to where Draco was. He must've worried that the receipt of this note would lead to something happening or he would've hidden it. As it was, it was all but set on a velvet pillow with a bright light shining on it and a flashing neon sign that read, "A Clue." 

Taking a moment to be insulted that Draco felt the need to be so obvious, Harry sighed and unrolled the scroll to see very girly handwriting on a short missive.

Meet me at my house. We have things to chat about.

\- Mione

"Mione?" Harry winced at her self-proclaimed nickname that had never quite caught on between the boys. He supposed her lovers and friends probably used it, but he'd always found it fucktarded. What vexed him even more than the presumed familiarity with Draco and the stupid name was the way the 'i' was dotted in the note. It appeared to be half a heart that was hastily scratched out. A full heart was realized over the 'i' in 'Mione' which made it even harder to look at. Hermione had never been one for such girly additions to her writing, at least not that he remembered from when she'd corrected his homework or revisions.

Suddenly, the whole queer spectacle of Draco and Hermione sizing each other up at The Leaky Cauldron flooded his memory; the way he'd looked at her and the way she'd balked and how defensive and morose Ron had been over it. 

What had he said again? 'You're not yourself, are you Granger?' At the time, Harry couldn't have agreed more. She really hadn't been herself in some time, but he'd attributed it to survivor's guilt, or just wanting to change herself after the tribulations of being at war for so long. He'd certainly wanted to just let go of everything and become someone else, but what if she really had?

All of those changes she'd made that had been so annoying at the time were now quite chilling to recall. He wasn't sure what or who she might actually be, only that now he was certain that the woman who was married to Ron was not Hermione Weasley, and whoever she was, she had Draco trapped somewhere. 

Pocketing the scroll, Harry knew he had only one place to be-- Ron's house.

\--

The plan had been to walk into Hermione's house and ask about where Draco was. The letter was burning a hole in his pocket to show to her, as if she wouldn't remember writing it. But mostly, he was anxious to find Draco and to know that he was all right. 

As he hadn't checked the time, he didn't seem to realize how early in the morning it was. It took a while before Hermione opened the door, looking exhausted and tawdry in her obviously thrown-on negligee, which she'd left open as if that were going to be at all tempting.

The lace stuck to her skin that still bore redness from her leaning against the pillow. Her hair was swept up on top of her head, but that didn't help the pillow welts on the side of her face. 

"Oh, Harry come in! Ron's on a bender again," she said as she pointed to the couch. "Can I get you a pint?"

Harry just barely missed tripping over a toy unicorn on his way to the couch and flopped onto it. "No, tea... coffee would be better," he called back, sitting on the couch. 

"Looking for Ron, Harry?" she asked. He heard the clatter of dishes as she created what started to smell like coffee. He looked down at the note, an obvious forgery, now that he thought of it. He probably shouldn't be bothering her with it. Hearts? Hermione? But the note said to come here, so perhaps someone meant to gather him from here. "Looking for Malfoy, actually. I thought he might've stopped by." 

"Your partner?"

Harry turned at the loud crash of a mug hitting the floor. He waited for Hermione to repair it, but instead she got out a broom. "Er, yeah, Malfoy my partner. I had reason to believe he'd stop by here."

"That's weird."

"Reparo," said Harry, holding his wand at the broken cup. He gave her a pointed look.

"Oh, you know me. I don't know all of those charms. You say one letter off and suddenly the whole room is up in flames," said Hermione, giving a nervous laugh. 

"You're the one who taught us how to pronounce spells properly, Hermione, remember?" It was all coming together, clicking off slowly in Harry's head. She really wasn't herself. She was someone else entirely. Hermione would've remembered that. She would've repaired the mug and moved on with her life. Makeover or not, this was just not Hermione.

"That was so long ago," she said, pouring a cup of coffee for him, but not one for herself.

Behind him, there was a flash of light. Harry turned his head to look at, catching a trace of blue before the light went out. It appeared to be emanating from the cupboard. "What was that?"

"Oh nothing, Harry. Just one of the kids." Hermione looked panicked and she headed towards the door but Harry reached it first. He knocked on it, but heard nothing in response. 

"One of your children is in the pantry and that's nothing?" He knocked again, harder this time, keeping his eyes trained on Hermione, who was looking increasingly irritated.

"You know how Neville is. He's peculiar like his father was. He likes to sleep in strange places. Malfoy was here, he just left with his... friend. They were talking about going on holiday, I believe." Hermione looked cagey, but what she said made some sense, not in an Earth Logic way, but certainly in some way. 

"Which friend? The bloke at the pub?" But still, the idea of Malfoy going on an unexpected holiday seemed crazy. 

"Yes, the one at the pub."

She hadn't said Kirley Duke. If someone as famous as Kirley Duke stopped by your house to pick up his boyfriend, you called him by his name. 

"Which bloke at the pub?"

"The one who was staring at him all night. Down the way a bit. Maybe you didn't see him. Think it's his boyfriend. He said he was having it off with someone at work, maybe you know him?"

Unless Draco was having it off with someone other than Harry, which was doubtful, but he'd ask anyway, Draco would've been talking about him. "So this bloke came and got him and they were going to leave on holiday?"

"Oh yes, they looked very happy. Haven't seen them since."

There was another blue flash of light and Harry whirled around to open the door. It took a couple of quick incantations, but the door was open and Harry saw a flash of Draco's angry face and heard, "You utter moron," before he was pitched forward and the door was slammed leaving them in darkness. 

They'd been sitting in the dark a while, at least long enough for Harry to adjust to the miniscule light that the misaligned doorframe would allow in. He sat leaned against the door whilst Draco sat with his knees to his chest pressed against the back wall with the longer coats as cushion for how he was pounding the back of his head against the wall.

"Sorry," Harry muttered for what had to be the thousandth time. Still no response from Draco other than his muttered "fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," but that seemed more of a mantra than a response. 

"Really, I am." There didn't seem any way for him to express it to Draco in a way that he'd accept. "She just surprised me."

"I got that impression." Draco sighed and brought his head forward to pound his forehead against his knees. 

"With both of us missing... I mean, she can't just stash us away forever, can she?" 

Draco looked up, but there wasn't enough light to make his expression entirely readable. "No, I suppose that eventually she'll just kill us."

"Oh. Right."

"Or Obliviate us."

Harry looked up at the ceiling and the way the light crept in around the door. "There must be a way out."

"Or use us as sex toys."

"We've got to get out of here." That scenario actually seemed fairly likely given the history of this not!Hermione.

Draco fidgeted. "Do you really think that's likely?"

"Not if it was really Hermione, but given whom it is..."

"Finally figured out that it wasn't Granger, did you? About time. I thought you two were close." Draco stood as Harry scooted out of the way; sliding his hands over the frame.

"Not really. I mean, she was bossy and naggy before. Then she was slutty and naggy and bossy. Ron kind of liked it at first and I didn't think much of it. I don't give a lot of thought to her." As Harry said it, he realized it was true. He never really had given loads of thought to Hermione other than when he wanted something from her. Typical male behavior, but it didn't make him a terribly good friend. But then, he wondered if he'd changed like that if anyone would've noticed.

"I just wonder who it is. I couldn't suss it out before I was in here. Not that it matters if I'm to be Obliviated and turned whore, but still, for curiosity's sake... it would be good to know. Hard to imagine who would waste all of this time and effort on Weasley, though. He wasn't the most popular bloke, was he? I'd an idea that it was that one bint..."

"Lavender Brown!" Harry jumped up. All of the clues fit. It just had to be!

With his face closer to the light, it was easier to see his irritated expression over being pre-empted in his grand conclusion. Worsened by the fact that Harry was confirming it, which meant he was right. Harry was best pleased by the look. It was much the same sort of mixture of shock and fury that accompanied him catching the Snitch out of Draco's hand. He'd missed that look.

"Well aren't you just Merlin's little helper?" Draco rolled his eyes and added; "I did all of the hard work." 

Draco huffed as he slid his fingers into the cracks. There was the buzz of shock, which Harry could feel, but Draco barely reacted to other than a wince. When he pulled his fingers back, they were bright red with irritation and bubbling, but Draco merely waved a hand over his fingers to set them to right again. 

"Well, Lavender's a decent spell binder, anyway. I can't do this wandlessly and she took my wand. I'd hoped that if you came for me you could get the drop on her, but alas." Leaning against the wall, Draco sighed and crossed his arms.

"If? You doubted that I'd come for you?" Harry frowned. Even if they were just partners he would've gone searching for him. Maybe not as thoroughly, which had made it take longer to actually find him, but he still would have always come for him. One thing it did tell Harry, however, was that Draco didn't understand how Harry felt. That was good and bad. He was just starting to worry that perhaps Draco was being purposefully obtuse to spare his feelings when it occurred to him that he still had his wand. 

Pulling it from his pocket, he handed it to Draco and said, "At least she didn't get mine."

Draco's face was in shadow again, making it hard to read how he'd taken his question, but he did answer the notion of Harry keeping his wand with a, "Pfft."

Taking the wand, Draco looked it over, sliding his fingers over it curiously. "Is this the wand you killed Voldemort with?"

"No. That one was destroyed in the final battle. That one's new. Not as good, but phoenix feather again, anyway." Harry took a step forward as he shoved his hands in his pockets as Draco gazed at his wand. It was oddly personal, watching Draco touch his wand. He'd never really let anyone touch it before, other than Ron in the midst of a scramble in one of the Auror tests, but that wasn't the same, really, and he hadn't been offering to allow Ron to use it.

"Ah. That makes sense. I suppose I knew that." Draco flourished the wand at the door, intoning a variety of curse breaking spells. Each one bounced back and Draco caught them elegantly in a ball of white light emanating from his other hand, a catch-all shield that could be easily eliminated later. It was a technique they'd learned in Auror training, which Draco hadn't attended, leaving Harry again curious as to where he learned these things. 

"No good. I'm not bonded to your wand. I can't get enough power behind it to break her spell. She... must be really good at..." Draco trailed off and looked at the door, his brows furrowed deeply. He looked almost anxious.

"We'll get out, don't worry," said Harry. He took his wand back and slid his hand up and down Draco's back. 

"Yeah. We will. We're... together, I'm sure we're strong enough. She probably never counted on having to restrain two powerful wizards. It's just... what's been bothering me is... what did happen to Granger." 

Harry paused, not having really given that much thought yet. In the midst of the mystery and confined spaces, he really hadn't given much consideration to Hermione or even what it would take to really restrain her. She'd always been brilliant, but she was as fallible as anyone and if the change happened when Harry thought it had, she wasn't nearly so savvy as Draco, nor was she as strong as he was. "Oh, God."

It was Draco's turn to comfort and he slipped an arm around Harry and crossed his arms protectively around him. Harry had received hugs in his life of varying levels of affection. His head had been kissed before, but somehow with Draco doing it, he felt a strange tingle that spread warmth over his skin. He tucked his face against Draco's shirt as Draco gently kneaded his back and pressed his cheek to Harry's temple. "I'm sorry. We don't know... but... I'm sorry."

It seemed silly to be so upset now. He didn't even know if Hermione had actually passed on, and if she had, it was probably many years before this. One thing was for certain; he wouldn't know anything for certain blubbering about it against Draco's chest. As good as it felt and as wonderful as Draco smelled in spite of being locked away for hours, he knew that he needed to get out of here. 

"Should I try?" asked Harry.

Draco nodded as he pulled away from Harry and handed him his wand. He taught Harry the incantations and the precise movements of the more obscure hex breaking spells that he knew after Harry had run through the ones he knew. By the end of it, his head was left pounding and he felt incredibly drained. He could only imagine how tired Draco must be to have tried doing it sans wand before this. 

Harry flopped against the wall and slid down, bending his knees against his chest as Draco had been sitting before. "Well. That's that, then. Maybe Ron will come home and want something from the closet?"

"Ron's a brick. You noticed the blue flashes right away. Ron thought it really was Neville."

As much as Harry wanted to object that Ron wasn't that dense and that Ron didn't actually realize anyone was missing and that he should be looking in the house, he was too tired to make the point to Draco. Besides, blaming someone else for this predicament felt better than blaming himself. "Then I'm out of ideas," said Harry.

After a long pause in which Harry decided that Draco must've dozed off standing, Draco said, "I've... one... idea." 

The hesitancy of Draco's voice caused Harry to squint in the darkness to try and read his expression. There was a spark of something in his expression that came through in his voice somewhat. "What's that?"

"We could establish a connection to each other and then try to combine powers," said Draco as he peeled himself up from the wall in a clean, serpentine motion.

"You mean... sex? You want me to shag you in my best mate's closet?" As upset as Harry tried to sound, he was already hard at the notion of it. Ron might even be home by now, just sitting outside of the doorway not knowing what was going on amongst his winter wear. 

After a quick, awkward chuckle, Draco said, "I thought we might try holding hands first."

"Oh. Right." Harry winced at being so transparent, although that didn't help his erection any. He closed his eyes and willed it down as Draco took his hand.

"You'll need to try the spells again. It's a powerful jinx but Brown's not nearly so clever as to make it completely unbreakable." 

Harry could tell that there was doubt in that assertion, but he didn't care to call him on it. As it was, Draco's silky hand was sliding over Harry's, their palms caressing before Draco bent his fingers, sliding them between each of Harry's digits. Once they were interlaced, Draco slid his thumb soothingly over the back of Harry's hand, making his skin prickle with sensation. He wasn't sure if it was the magical connection or just the magic that seemed to happen each time he touched Draco.

He ran through the charms almost breathlessly. He wondered if Draco wasn't sabotaging the situation with his maddening finger caresses, as Harry was having a hard time concentrating on what he was saying and he accidentally hexed the door covered in rabbit fur. 

"Erm, I don't think this is going to work," said Harry.

Draco stroked the furry door as he released Harry's hand and sighed. "Right, well... we could try kissing, but then you couldn't speak."

Kissing. Harry very much wanted to kiss Draco, especially after the tenderness of their hand-holding. In a strange way, this was turning into a very compressed date. With two men. In a closet. Lavender had closeted them. 

"I could try to wordlessly charm the door," said Harry.

"I don't think you have enough charm to do anything wordlessly. That said, I think you're most charming when you don't speak." 

"HAH!" It stung, but it was likely true, so Harry didn't say anything more to it. He looked down at his feet, trying to think of a way to bring up that he thought if they had sex it would be a pretty huge bond without sounding too eager to get into Draco's pants. Which he was terribly eager to do. Just thinking of the way that pale body squirmed under him, the supple ripple of muscle and feline lines and sleek grace with which Draco matched each stroke and...

He was about to just buck up and say it when Draco's fingers stroked his cheek and tilted his head up. Whether Draco meant to or not, he always kissed as if he were in love. His tongue swept into Harry's mouth and his hands cradled his face as he pulled him in closer. His fingertips swirled in Harry's rough hair, teasing his scalp and the back of his neck. Harry wanted to just lose himself in the kiss, enjoying the fluid warmth of his mouth and the familiar taste of him. Somehow Draco managed to maintain his own taste with just a hint of mintiness. Likely as not it was a charm, but Draco had made it his own, and he didn't taste artificial in the least.

So wrapped up in the kiss, Harry forgot that he was to be curse-breaking and wrapped his arms around Draco, pulling them chest-to-chest in the awkward meeting of bony limbs of their embrace. Draco's cock jutted out, teasing against Harry's hip and after a movement so subtle that it made Harry doubt it was intentional, Draco bushed their cocks together.

At this spark of sensation on his cock, Harry was reminded to focus lest he throw Draco against the wall and have his way with him. That idea was much more appealing at the moment than the draining mantra of spells he was to repeat, but he didn't think the advance would be welcome, so he ran through the spells, forming their words into Draco's mouth, his tongue swishing in the form of syllables and his lips kneading against Draco's. He hummed out the words as he thought them, trying to focus on the door. It clattered and rumbled in its frame at a couple of the spells, but otherwise, nothing happened. 

Harry ended the kiss, breathless from their frotting and the concentration it took to run through the spells. He was about to comment to Draco that they might want to try something else, but very suddenly he was no longer face-to-face with him. At first he was inclined to turn around, but there was no way he'd be there, or that he could've Apparated away. That left only one place to go. He was just looking down when Draco's hand palmed the front of his trousers and his fingers deftly plucked through the belt and fastenings.

"Ah!" said Harry, more out of surprise than anything else. 

"You can't suck me off, it's your wand. It'll be a stronger connection if I do it. I don't want to talk about it." Draco's eyes held warning and Harry nodded dumbly down to Draco. 

"Right. Wasn't going to argue." And he really, really wasn't. All he was going to do was watch Draco finger open the plackets of his trousers and fish his cock out of his boxers, bypassing the slit and button in favor of pulling his cock out over the elastic band. 

First, Draco just pulled at it, as if it could get any harder than it was. His boxers were already sticky with come and the tip glistened, catching the line of light from the door crevice. Draco moved into the light, half blocking it with his cheek, which bulged with Harry's cock as Draco took him into his mouth. Harry grabbed at the hanging cloaks as if they would give him any stability as Draco's lips stretched out over his cock. His hand was at the base, twisting slowly, making up for the lack of what Draco couldn't fit into his mouth.

Draco sucked him hard, almost too hard to be bearable as his tongue flicked over the over-sensitized skin, smoothing it over. Harry had never in his life received a blowjob and he relished each slurping noise and soft whimper of lust or embarrassment that Draco made. Each time he pulled back, his head was turned in a slightly different angle and his cheeks hollowed out. How in the world he expected Harry to concentrate while he was doing all of that was utterly beyond Harry's cognitive abilities. However, he was glad for the mental distraction so as to draw out the light touch of Draco's fingers on his balls, tugging and toying as Draco's mouth engulfed him repeatedly.

He was halfway through the charms when he realized that if Draco was so good at this... it had to mean that he'd been practicing on someone. Someone who was not him. Someone who was probably Kirley Duke. Viciously, Harry grabbed the back of Draco's head and plunged himself deeper into Draco's mouth. Immediately, Draco started to gag and shoved him back against the wall.

"What the shit was tha--" shouted Draco, his eyes wide and watering obviously even if it was hard to see. 

"It's not working." Undaunted, Harry reached across the closet to grab Draco by the collar and threw him against the be-furred door. "Another connection."

"Fine, but what is wrong with--"

Draco's voice broke off as Harry yanked Draco's robes up and pressed against him. Harry yanked Draco's briefs down to his knees and then spelled his fingers lubricated and dug into him, pressing his chest into Draco's back to pin him against the door. He wanted to answer Draco. He was desperate to tell him how angry he was that though he hadn't fucked Kirley, he was obviously sucking him off, but the words caught in hurt lumps in his throat. 

Eyes watering, Harry hid his face against Draco's neck, plunging his fingers into him and pulling them out, feeling the warm, safety and seeming security of the inside of Draco. His Draco. But not his Draco if he was sucking other men's cocks. The very thought of it made him want to cry as much as it filled him with an unspeakable rage that caught wind and already set the door to rattle. 

"You're a little cocksucker, that's what's wrong." With that, Harry thrust deep into him, squatting to manage it. He slammed into him a few more times, watching Draco's hands wind up through the furry door, his light fingers twisting through the animal hair as he worked back against him.

"Your cock. I sucked your cock. Just now. Do you think that's dirty?" It was hard to tell whether Draco thought he was dirty talking or if he sounded scared.

Harry hoped he was scared. Hoped he loved this last fuck because he wasn't going to get it again. He was tired of playing these games with Draco, tired of being filled with all of this doubt. "Sucking Duke's cock."

His thighs burned from how hard he continued to slam into Draco, feeling like he was breathing fire through his lungs. He slid his hands up Draco's arms, weaving their fingers together as he pressed his entire body against Draco's, fucking in faster, shallower strokes. He didn't care if Draco got off on this. He hoped he didn't. Sucking another man's cock! 

"I... what? I didn't. Just... just yours," grunted Draco. His pale face was pressed against the fur, nuzzling it as his palms flattened against the door for leverage to push back. 

"I don't believe you," Harry grumbled in harsh tones breathily against Draco's ear. "You suck cock too well for that to be your first time."

Draco's body stiffened and at first Harry thought he was offended, but then he felt the last burst of energy that signified his release and before Harry could pull out or encircle Draco's cock to prevent it, he was already clamping down around Harry's prick in hard, fast squeezes, each one his body constricting to push come out against the fur. Harry could picture it matting and dribbling to the floor.

"In school. And... before... we were... partners," Draco wheezed between breaths.

"Filthy little cocksucking whore!" Harry's mind was scattered and while he understood it was unreasonable to expect that Draco had been completely untouched in boarding school, it was a horrible revelation for him to have here and now of all places. He wanted to be Draco's first and only for everything and now he knew he wasn't. He hated it. He hated wondering how many cocks were in his mouth before, if Draco had looked at them with that same lust that he looked at him. 

He slammed into him a few more times, feeling like he was going to come in spite of how much he'd started to loathe Draco in these few moments. Harry felt betrayed and foolish and as if he wasn't going to stack up to other people who had probably come in Draco's mouth or in his face. Pearly come on that buttermilk skin, glistening as his snake-y grey eyes widened with lust and surprise. 

"I want to come in your hair," Harry gasped in seeming non sequitur. The idea of Draco's hair matted with his come and the fantastic outrage that would be written on his face pushed Harry's body to begin the opening contractions to impending release. He tried to think of something to stave it off, truly worried that this was going to be the last time he could bear to be inside of Draco. 

Just as his eyes were crossing and his body was giving over to the final release, Harry cried out, "Alohomora!" It was the simplest of all of the opening spells but with the combined anxiety of Harry's tension and Draco's confusion heightening everything, the door rattled hard.

There was a blinding flash of golden light that started at the top of the door and split in two, tracing the lighted outline in rays like lasers, shooting down the door. Harry squeezed his eyes shut, giving over to his release, half believing that the light was just in his head. 

That is, until the door broke free of the hinges and Harry and Draco spilled out on top of the door just behind the couch on which Ron and Hermione were sitting peaceably having a conversation.

Harry laid there for a moment, balls deep in Draco, both of their shorts down round their ankles, blinking in the freshly bright light of the house. Lavender-as-Hermione jumped up and Harry had enough wits about him to cry out, "Stupefy!"

"Bloody hell Harry, what were you doing in my closet?" Ron screeched before jumping at his wife's frozen form. She tipped over and crashed over the coffee table and finally onto the floor with a loud clatter.

"Oh, I'd say it's fairly obvious that he was fucking me," drawled Draco.

"Malfoy!" Harry shouted as he yanked back from him, scrambling up to his knees and up to his feet. He dragged his pants and trousers up, buckling them as quickly as he could.

"What, we couldn't stay in the closet forever." Draco sneered as he rolled over onto his side and pulled his pants up. "This was a bit literal, but I'm sure it feels great to be out to your friends." 

"Not funny, Malfoy!" said Harry as Ron looked between them.

"You're gay? With Malfoy?" Ron's face had gone pale, making his blue eyes and freckles seem more dramatic somehow. The burn of his angry eyes on Harry made him ache to somehow make it better.

"Not exactly. We just had to shag because Hermione, who is actually Lavender, locked us in there. The shagging was strictly to get us out of that jam!" Harry exclaimed.

"Right. It was all strictly business," said Draco tightly. Harry looked at him, imploring some indulgence as he tried to break it to Ron but found no mercy, only the angry blaze of betrayal. It made Harry feel defensive as he recalled all of the dicks Draco must've sucked to get as good at it as he was. "Perfunctory."

That just hurt. Harry gestured and shook his head, not even sure what he could say to Draco when Ron bolted out of his front door and into the night. 

In spite of Draco's warning look that Harry just knew was an ultimatum at a glance, Harry raced after Ron, making a choice that he knew he might live to regret, but at the moment he couldn't get the vision of Draco sucking Kirley's dick out of his head.


	7. Episode 7: 24-Karat Ferret

Over the course of what felt like a hellish week, Harry Potter's life had been pulled up by a mad Wizard of Oz-level twister, turned over, shaken about and then dropped on a wicked witch named Lavender Brown. While Ron moved back to the Burrow and the comfort of his mum and da to help him take care of the three children that weren't likely even his, Harry did his best to cajole and intimidate Lavender into an answer.  
  
The years using the Polyjuice potion had not been kind to her, and her body was now rather bulbous, her skin magically saggy and full of silvery veins. In spite of this, she refused to give up what had become of Hermione Granger beyond what she'd told Draco when he woke her up. There were still magical lesions from where the purple frogs had cascaded from her forehead and the way they pulled her skin as they ran down her. Dark magic, but technically not forbidden. Draco knew his boundaries.   
  
Of course, the story that Draco got from her had to do with a colony of freed house-elves creating a liberation army outside of the highlands. Harry was inclined to believe that Lavender was making it up, but Ron, quite sobered by what all had transpired and with more hope than Harry had seen in his eyes, had packed up to follow and see if it was true.   
  
As for Draco, Harry hadn't seen him to try and apologize or explain to him. In retrospect, he could see how ridiculous he'd been. It wasn't as if Draco was the first person he'd ever kissed and he would've been just as narked if Draco had thrown a wobbly like that and bailed.  
  
That said, Harry didn't regret following Ron out that door. It was instinctive and tainted by his anger with Draco sucking other cocks, but once he caught up to him, Ron was shivering and hysterical. He'd had children with that woman-- that woman who was not his Hermione, was not his wife. He'd settled in to have a family with her and while he knew she'd been odd, he'd been too blinded with getting her in the bum to notice that Lavender Mary Sue had inserted herself into that role. Ron had been so desperate, that Harry thought he might well do himself harm and therefore took him in for the night after a quick note to Molly to take care of the kids.  
  
Every day, Harry came into work with the hopes that he would see Draco, that they could talk, but each day Kingsley informed him that Draco was on a special assignment that he didn't need a partner on. Harry missed the little things Draco would do, like leaving pornographic toys on his desk, or sucking off ice. It was perverted, but now that it wasn't happening, he started to really appreciate how much effort Draco really was putting into their flirtation.   
  
With Ron gone, there wasn't anyone likely to tattle on his indiscretion with Draco. Well, aside from Lavender, but her time was limited. If they didn't find Hermione soon, she was scheduled for the Kiss. At the moment, Harry was inclined to think of no finer person to receive it.   
  
After several days of not really speaking to anyone besides Kingsley and finishing up with the paperwork, Harry asked Kingsley if Draco was assigned out of town. Though Kingsley made much of the fact that he could not officially answer that question due to the "special circumstances" of what Draco was up to, something about Harry's harried hygiene likely spoke to his need to see his partner. Harry caught Kingsley's curious glance at his demeanor, but otherwise, Harry couldn't be arsed to care. The answer was that Draco was still in town and likely at his flat.   
  
In the spirit of needing to show Draco that he did actually care and that he was over whatever madness had possessed him, Harry picked up flowers on the way to Draco's flat. It wasn't as if he could write this visit off as anything other than personal anyhow, and it was time to address their issues outside of using the work excuse. Plus, he needed to let Draco know that he was over whatever nefarious past with Kirley-- or anyone-- that there was, although he still grit his teeth whenever he thought of anyone putting anything near that mouth. His mouth. The only mouth he'd had his cock in and the only mouth he  _wanted it in_. Right. He was going to have to get a grip and push it out of his mind. He had a sudden sympathy for how Ron had felt about Hermione sixth year. Inferior. Tongue-tied. Stupid. Like he wouldn't measure up.  
  
Then again, according to Draco, Harry was the only man he was having it off with, and that had to count for something. He stopped off at a flower seller, picking an assortment of rolling roses and python peonies and dancing daises and took the lift up to Draco's floor.   
  
The bell chimed and the doors rolled open. As if on cue, Kirley Duke opened the door of the flat to pick up the current issue of the  _Prophet_  from the floor. He stood, keeping his glare on Harry and his sneer as cocky as he could make it. Kirley wore a bright paisley silk dressing gown, opened but for the belt loosely tied in front. His long legs were well-muscled and led to his boxer briefs that were a bit better filled out that Harry would've preferred. On his chest, that was likewise cut from stone, were a series of protective runes that floated over his olive skin like the thin sail of magic.  
  
They were arcane as far as runes went, although he remembered them all thanks to the early days where Hermione had helped him study for the written Auror tests. He could picture them on the flashcards even as they turned and flitted up to form a dragon sigil. While Harry wasn't an expert on symbolic magic, it looked like a symbol of protection.  
  
Kirley snorted, "Potter. I'd invite you in, but he's still sleeping and doesn't want to see you ever again." His face held a placid sneer until he noticed Harry looking down at his chest. Then he appeared shifty. "Doesn't matter. I'm here now and you're standing out there with the lame flowers. Sod off, Potter."   
  
Harry was still grinning as the door slammed as the puzzle pieces fell into place. Draco wasn't dating Kirley Duke, he was protecting him. Dating was a convenient cover for when Duke wanted to go out, but now that he thought back to the mini show at the Leaky, Draco was very clearly protecting him, and not watching. In fact, he'd spent more time flirting with Harry than doing his job. Was Draco moonlighting as a bodyguard?   
  
It didn't explain why the Ministry seemed to be allowing it, so perhaps it was set up for the Ministry, but either way, he started to see where he'd been misled and how much of it had come from Kirley Duke. Maybe they had started seeing each other, but Harry had put the kibosh on that. He could mostly believe it now. It didn't mean that Draco hadn't fallen back into his arms. There was a lot that it could've meant.   
  
Though it took all of his restraint, Harry managed not to bang down the door and instead decided to figure out another plan. He thought he'd heard on the Wizarding Wireless Network that Kirley Duke was going to give a concert at the end of this week. It might be the only time he could see Draco before he quit being an Auror or put in for a partner transfer. Harry would go. The tickets were sold out, but Harry had loads of money to waste, and he had to make it up to Draco.  
  
\--  
  
Harry played with the tickets he held. He'd tried to get someone else to go with him, but with Ron off looking for Hermione and Hermione... well, who knew and Ginny still not speaking to him over their crappy break up, he was left with Luna Lovegood.   
  
"Area you sure you want to go in there, Harry? This was the sight of the Dead Blue Parrot rebellion of 1976. Right here... er..." she moved over a few feet, looked around again and pointed down. "Right here, a man tried to return a blue parrot to what used to be a pet store on this very place."  
  
"I see." Not that Harry saw or wanted to see. He was toying with the little gold ferret on the front of the ticket. It would stop swirling long enough to bite the tip of Harry's finger, turn around and shake its tail at him and then return to what it was doing. The ferret was from the logo of the opening band 24 Karat Ferret. Harry smirked at how much that name had to irk Draco.   
  
"I really love Kirley Duke, though. And the opening band sounds good too. New band that I've never even heard of," she said dreamily. She wore a long, flowing robe that seemed to be made of patchwork, but each had their own special layers. Luna matched prints in a way that no one else seemed to and her fashionable creations were causing quite a stir amongst what Draco called, "quilt dressers." He'd also called it "Weasley Fashion" which had ticked off Ron. Memories.   
  
Speaking of, Harry looked up and around for a white blond head amongst the crowd. He'd conned Luna into looking as well, but instead she kept calling out, "Moonfrog! Oh no wait, it's a piece of paper."   
  
By the time the lights were lowering, Harry figured he was just going to have to deal with the opening act. Draco was probably sulking backstage and wouldn't come out until he was needed.   
  
The stage erupted into lights and the crunching sound of Magitars, but the song sounded familiar. Like a cover of a Muggle song that Harry had heard a few years before. Seemed like 24 Karat Ferret was a cover band?  
  
 _And it all breaks down at the role reversal  
got the muse in my head she's universal  
spinning me 'round just coming over me  
And it all breaks down at the role reversal  
got the muse in my head she's universal  
spinning me 'round just coming over me_  
  
The man stalking the stage was head-to-toe in gold lamé, looking like a glam rocker. Or at least what Sirius had lovingly referred to as a glam rocker when he showed Harry his secret stash of Muggle record albums. Harry was vaguely familiar with David Bowie on his own, though, and that was very much who he thought of as the lithe blond man sang about 'eyeholes in a paper bag' being the greatest lay he'd ever had.   
  
The man, wearing exorbitant amounts of glittery eye make-up in jewel tones with pale white face, turned and locked eyes with Harry. It took a moment for Harry to resolve the flinty grey and put together the smooth line of the body and then the voice.   
  
The secret life of Draco Malfoy was evidently him as a rock star. A glam rock star. A glam rock star in gold shiny latex that showed everything.  _Everything_ , every crease, every wrinkle, Harry imagined he could see every vein and the outline of his sack. Harry wanted to fling himself on stage to stop the display, but that was exactly the sort of crap that had gotten him into this mess to begin with.   
  
No, this time he was going to trust Draco and believe that he wasn't just going to let some half-wit musician steal him away and turn him into a rock star. If he did though, Draco was an extraordinary performer. Harry had never seen Bowie perform live, but he'd seen a video once late at night when the cupboard wasn't quite closed and he could watch late night reruns. The next day he'd gotten in trouble from mucking about in Petunia's make-up box and pummeled for being a "girl" by Dudley's friends. He'd never tried it again at the time, but watching Draco strut and prance... he was born to it.   
  
Harry slunk to the back to the bar to get a drink. He would need a few to keep watching this. He was hard just thinking about the way that Draco had once moved against him. So many of those shimmies and shakes were now taking place against the pole of the microphone or simulated against the Omniano player.   
  
God, he was beautiful. Draco Malfoy was a beautiful man and up until he'd bollixed it up with a moment of insecurity and need to comfort his friend, he'd had him all to himself. Harry wanted to cry. He wanted to grab Draco off the stage and make him understand.   
  
Failing that, he wanted to go home.   
  
Luna stood towards the back of the crowd, spinning around so that her patchwork robe splayed and twirled around her. Her hands were up and waved in crazy patterns like she was summoning some bird-like creature only she knew about. She banged people in the heads with her flailing fists, but no one seemed to mind. It was just Luna, and everyone seemed to expect that from her. Harry was relieved that things had gotten so much better for her.  
  
The music weaved over him in nonsensical words, grunts and the sway of Draco's hips. Harry was captivated by Draco, even if he had no clear idea what he was on about. All he could do was drink and stare, brooding over what he'd had; what he'd let slip through his fingers. Any moment now, Kirley Duke was going to come out. They'd kiss. Not just kiss for the press, but full body kissing. The sort of kiss that he used to give Harry with his hand on the back of his head and their bodies pressed together. He'd draw Kirley in and Kirley would be left completely at Draco's whim with the only word that he could possibly say being "Yes," agreeing to anything Draco asked of him.   
  
Or at least, that's how kissing Draco felt to Harry.  
  
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a man who looked as lovesick and maudlin as he felt, sipping a pint. The stranger didn't remove his gaze from Draco until Harry sidled up next to him. Briefly, Harry wondered how many people Draco had really had sex with and told he was a virgin, because this man appeared to want him as badly as Harry did. It was probably the ale talking, but at the moment he felt exceptionally bitter.   
  
"Beautiful, isn't he?" asked Harry, testing the waters, wondering just how masochistic he could be.   
  
"Maybe. I guess. Sort of. A pretty victim." The other man was taller than Harry and had dark brown hair. He had a wild-eyed air of danger about him, especially when he pulled his hat off, revealing more of his face. Harry looked at the man and then turned to glance at Draco flouncing about on stage, simulating fucking the air.   
  
"Yeah. He's a bit of a tart, isn't he?" said Harry, keeping a beady eye on the other man. Could this be who Draco was watching out for?  
  
"Probably. He's not the problem. It's Kirley. Kirley just wants what he wants and when he has it, he doesn't want it anymore. Heard his new boy-toy is a virgin. I had a family once. Kids. He had me..." said the man.  
  
Harry assumed that he meant Kirley had the man. He was relieved that he didn't seem to mean any harm to Draco, as he certainly could've had it by now. "Yeah. Musicians are jerks. That boy-toy is my partner."  
  
"Life partner?" growled the man. "That bastard! He has no respect for any sanctity of relationships! He just gets off what he wants when he wants it! He doesn't care who it hurts!"   
  
"No, he's my..." but Harry's voice was cut off from a huge cheer in the crowd and he turned to see Kirley walk out onto the stage. He held his breath, waiting for the deep, loving kiss that he just knew that the two would share.  
  
It never happened. Kirley went in for the kiss but Draco turned his face, giving him a cheek and looked over his shoulder. It would be impossible for Draco to see Harry way in the back like this, but Harry  _felt it_. He was just about to flee up to the stage to Draco, taking it as an invitation, when out of the corner of his eye he saw the man next to him flourish his wand.   
  
Harry had no idea how he'd gotten it in past security. Harry had his because he was an Auror, but this man... he had no idea who he was or what he was capable of.  
  
"DRACO!" Harry shouted in warning as if Draco would hear it. He tried to grab the wand from the man's hand as he fished out his own wand to create a shield, but it was too late.  
  
Before tackling the man down to the floor, it looked as if the hex was headed towards Kirley. So long, farewell, auf wiedersehen, goodnight! Guiltily, Harry felt happy with the notion that Kirley would at least suffer, if not die. As far as Harry was concerned, it was justice. But once he had the man pinned down, he turned his head to see Draco's golden body prone on the stage with witches and wizards trying to resuscitate him.  
  
"HAHAHAHA!" cackled the man as if he'd heard the funniest joke. "He'll have to find his true love now! Someone will have to be truly in love with the git for him to survive! Sleeping Beauty Hex! HAHAHA! He has three days for someone in love with him to shag him or else he's asleep for 100 years!"   
  
"You hit someone else," Harry snarled, glaring down at him.  
  
The man's glee faded instantly. "Give me my wand! Kirley Duke must be hexed!"  
  
"YOU HIT MY PARTNER!" Harry roared.  
  
"Sorry..." the man said, looking sheepish under the intensely riled glare of Harry Potter's full fury.   
  
This time, Harry wasn't going to need magic. He railed back and punched the man so hard that his head bounced on the pavement. After a hard nudge to the man's ribs, Harry determined he was out cold.  
  
Harry stood and bound him magically and looked over at Draco, who was being packaged up to go to St. Mungo's. He loved Draco. Was he  _in love_  with him? What did that even mean? He kicked the defenseless bound man in the shins and looked back at the stage. Draco was being carted out and Kirley Duke was on the other stage reenacting the scene to impress chavs who had leapt up onto stage as if they might help.   
  
Maybe it was juvenile, but he'd wanted to do this since he'd met Kirley. Now that he saw how little he truly cared about Draco or anyone by himself, Harry flourished his wand and hexed Kirley flaccid for as long as it took for Harry's anger to abate. And Harry Potter could hold grudges.   
  
\--  
  
After spending the day glaring at Kirley Duke, who was sitting on the other side of Draco's bed at St. Mungo's, Harry was rather relieved to see Tonks arrive. Her hair was a muddy, dark shade, not a cheery portent of her feelings or her news. He eyed her belly, but it was flat as it ever had been.   
  
She told him that Ron was back at the Burrow and wanted to talk to him. Harry wasn't sure if he should leave Kirley alone with Draco. Kirley had been speaking to a reporter from the _Daily Prophet_  earlier that day expressing concern that Draco would be left to slumber for 100 years because they wouldn't let  _him_  get on with it. Not that he could, thanks to his flaccid hex, but no one knew that, exactly. Besides, with as lascivious as Kirley seemed to be acting, Harry wondered if he hadn't sussed out a way to remove it. Chances were Harry wasn't the first to curse Kirley in such a way.  
  
The notion of allowing Kirley to paw at Draco in his sleep turned Harry's stomach. Aside from his own petty jealousies, Kirley had pretty obviously had it off with one of his groupies and clearly wasn't in love with Draco. It made Harry wonder why Kirley had put so much effort into trying to be with Draco, but that wasn't a question he wanted to ask. Maybe in his own way he did think he was in love with him, but Harry didn't like the way that Kirley looked at Draco. He didn't look at him as if he treasured him; he looked at him like he wanted to devour him. Maybe it was idealistic projection or just what Harry wanted to see, but Harry couldn't bear to leave Draco alone with the depraved musician.  
  
Finally, Tonks agreed to sit with Draco to keep him safe. She remarked that Harry was a bit over involved for a mere partner, but let the matter drop at that pontificating that he was, after all, her family, and she probably had special dispensation to stay by his side that others wouldn't anyway.  
  
Without an excuse to stay in the peach, antiseptic-smelling room any longer, Harry left for the Burrow to talk to Ron. He hadn't been gone long, but Harry thought perhaps he'd come to his senses about house-elf colonies and abandoned his search.  
  
When he arrived at the Burrow, Molly let him in, looking very somber, and Harry's heart sank. Suddenly, he felt horrid for the time he'd spent guarding Draco when he probably should've gone with Ron. He was starting to feel stretched too thin with his responsibilities and accountability to his friend versus his own personal wants and needs, and yet, he couldnâ€™t push away those feelings of regret for what Ron might've seen and that he'd seen it alone.  
  
Harry sat at the table next to Ron who was slumped over a cup of tea. He was pleased that at the very least, Ron didn't appear to be drinking, until he got a whiff of the toddy. Well, he would be warm, anyway. He rested his hand on Ron's back and moved it in slow circles and Ron leaned in against him to press his head on his shoulder.  
  
"I'm sorry, Ron," said Harry, at a loss for anything else to say. He wanted to break the silence, to find out what happened, but he didn't want to press.  
  
"She's alive, Harry."   
  
His hand stilled on Ron's back and his mind reeled at the notion. His voice sounded strange, slurred to the point of being lispy. Perhaps it was the drink.   
  
But Harry had to wonder, if Hermione was alive then why was he so upset? Harry wondered if perhaps Ron didn't want to be married to her anymore. But then, he'd stayed married to that awful self-inserted hag Lavender for so long, how horrid could the real Hermione be by now? "Isn't that a good thing?"  
  
Ron sighed and pulled away. He took another slow sip of his toddy and dropped the cup onto the saucer with a loud clang. "Yes. It's good. I mean, it's good, right? It is good. Yes. Good."  
  
There was so much pain etched over Ron's visage that Harry felt panic rising yet again, choking his throat as he imagined all of the horrible possibilities of being alive might mean if Ron was so upset by it. "Was she... is she hexed?"   
  
"Yes. Well. Sort of." Ron turned to Harry, his blue eyes dulled with too much grief and drink. "She was Obliviated. She knows nothing of the Wizarding world. Or of you. Or of... me."  
  
Harry stared at Ron for a moment, his eyes wide in shock and then he grabbed Ron to hug him tightly, as much to keep Ron from breaking down as for his own solace. The horror of it washed over him slowly as memories of what they'd all been together and the adventures they'd had bubbled to the surface, making him blink back the rising tide of emotions. "Oh Ron."  
  
"She's married now," he went on, stiff and still numb, his voice flat from the retelling of it. "Met someone. She's happy like that, as a Muggle. I couldn't... I can't... she has a baby. I couldn't... tell her about... any of it."   
  
Nodding, Harry squeezed Ron's back as he envisioned what that must have been like for him to watch. Hermione would be happy with a child, a husband, a domestic and easy life as compared to the complexities of magic.   
  
"She's a dentist. Isn't that funny? She doesn't even remember her parents, really, and she ended up taking up their profession."  
  
Ron's laugh lacked mirth and came out like a hollow, racked sob. Harry clutched him tighter and smoothed his fingers through his hair, wishing that he could make it better somehow. But there really weren't any magic words for this. Nothing would simply take that pain away, no matter how much Harry wished he could take it for him.   
  
"She's the brightest... woman... it's not surprising she'd end up a doctor, is it?" asked Harry.  
  
"No. No. I don't even... Tonks found her. She... I guess Lavender confronted her about our 'affair' and she... got the notion-- like Malfoy-- that she wasn't really Hermione and Tonks... Tonks went the other way about it, I guess. Prying around until she found Hermione. Then she said... she wasn't sure how to break it to me and then... everything happened and she had to come after me to find me and bring me back. I asked her to show me and... " Ron sat back and pulled back his lips to show off the metal wires of braces on his teeth.  
  
"Ron!" Harry exclaimed, feeling the tears overwhelm his restraint. He wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh or cry that Ron had undergone such extremes to spend time with Hermione. He wiped the tears on his sleeve and shook his head. It was like Hermione had died, and yet she hadn't. She was alive and she was happy. There was something to be said for that.  
  
Ron ran his index finger over his teeth and then shrugged. "I look ridiculous, I know. But now I've regularly scheduled visits to see her, at least? I know she's not... her. And I know that I accepted a substitute for her and maybe I've cocked it up so much I should just let it go. I know that I'm not in love with her. Maybe I never really was if I didn't know her from someone else. Or maybe we just started too early to even know what love was. But I can't just let her go completely."  
  
"You love her," Harry assured him, grabbing Ron's shoulder to give it a squeeze. "No man endures all of that," he said, gesturing to Ron's teeth, "for anything other than love."  
  
"Yeah. Maybe." Ron rolled his eyes and smiled, exposing his bracketed teeth. That was going to take some getting used to, but Harry was glad he'd get to visit her, anyway. As for him, Harry decided that he wanted to remember Hermione as she was and who she was to him.   
  
"Iâ€™m glad she's alive," said Harry. Molly brought Harry out a cup of tea, real tea, and he gratefully accepted it, finding tea the very English way of dealing with adversity and complex emotions. Toddys were well and good, but there was nothing like a strong Earl Grey and a stiff upper lip to see you through.  
  
After a long silence in which much tea and toddy drinking was accomplished, Ron broke it with, "So what's going on with Malfoy?"  
  
Harry cleared his throat, well aware of the last time Ron had seen he and Draco. They hadn't spoken of it, really, for which Harry had been grateful, but he supposed it was going to come up eventually. "I've not really spoken to him since..."  
  
"I meant with the curse," said Ron hurriedly.   
  
"Right." Harry frowned down at his tea. Not that he'd really expected Ron to accept his being gay all at once, but time had passed. "Well, it's a so-called 'Sleeping Beauty' hex. Basically someone in love with him has to shag him. Or so that's what the maniac who hexed him says. The Healers at St. Mungo's are trying to verify the hex and see if there's a way around it."  
  
"I thought that in the story she just needed to be kissed?" Ron finished his toddy and pushed it aside. When Molly walked over to him with the whiskey, he asked for tea. She smiled warmly and patted his head and poured him a cup.  
  
"Hence the doubt that this is exactly what the hex requires. The man refuses to give the incantation but insists that if Malfoy isn't shagged in three days by someone in love with him, he'll be asleep for a hundred years." Harry turned down another cup of tea and instead just stared down at the empty cup. Wizards easily lived over 100 years, but so much of his life would've passed him by.   
  
"You're not in love with him?" asked Ron. When Harry looked at him, Ron's eyes were averted as he seemed to find something on the wall opposite Harry intensely interesting. "I mean, I know you told me it was just a shag to get out of the closet but..."  
  
"But what?"  
  
Ron turned to look at Harry, this time very seriously. "In all the time I've known you, you've never been one to have it off for no reason. There were other ways out of that closet and you definitely weren't in such dire straits to be that desperate yet. I thought about it when I was in the Scottish Highlands. Though a lot about it. Malfoy didn't use some dark magic trick to get you out of that kitten-in-a-tree-cave. You two shagged to get out, didn't you?"  
  
Harry's blush seemed to serve as an answer.  
  
"So you were both virgins, so I'm guessing he doesn't take it lightly, either. I think... you might both be bumbling idiots, but I think you're also in love with him. I didn't... I didn't even get it when he was my partner. He talked about you incessantly, comparing what I did with you, complaining about all of your little habits that he said irritated him--"  
  
"What? What habits? I'm not irritating! That prat thinks he knows everything and lectures as if anyone cares to listen to him and he--"  
  
Ron chuckled and shook his head. "You two are silly for each other."  
  
Harry flailed and then dropped his hands on the table. What could he say to that? He liked the idea that Draco might want him, that he might think about him as much as Harry did. He closed his eyes and felt his cheeks burn with the pleasure of the notion of Draco talking about him. Then they brightened further as he remembered shagging Draco on top of Ron. Right. Well. He didn't need to know about that. "Be that as it may, I must admit to being tweaked by the idea of shagging him while he's asleep-- especially since we've not been speaking."  
  
"Well, maybe Duke will do it, then." Ron finished his tea and set it down. If Harry didn't know Ron better, he might've thought that he was trying to goad him with that remark.   
  
"Duke doesnâ€™t love him. It wouldn't work even if he tried it, which he won't get the chance to. They've never shagged. Ever. Malfoy said so. And he was already moving in on some groupies when Malfoy was being sent to St. Mungo's! He didn't even care!" Harry exclaimed.   
  
"Saw his remarks in the  _Prophet_ , though. Bet by day three when the Healers are getting desperate, they might look the other way to let him have a go."   
  
"What? They can't do that!" But Harry figured they really might. They were already eyeing both of the men up, although due to Kirley being out about being with Draco, they were mostly giving Harry the stink eye over his not leaving. "They wouldn't leave me alone with him, anyway. They think Duke is who he's with."  
  
Ron tapped his fingers on the table. "Sounds like you could use a lookout."  
  
"Yeah, if I were going to..." said Harry, eyeing Ron curiously.   
  
"No reason both of us need to be heartbroken, yeah? Malfoy's a bit of a prat, but he's an all right sort. If you love him then that's good enough for me. Bloke, bird, so long as you're not trying to stuff my bum it's not really my business anyway."  
  
Harry thought back on what all Ron had said before about it and wondered if he was really as unbothered as he seemed. But as he was blinded by the braces-smile, he decided to let it go for now. Ron was willing to help and he definitely needed it. "All right, but we need a plan."  
  
\--  
  
Getting in after dark was easy enough. Tonks was considered family and she managed to authorize Harry to get in after Ron did some fast talking. Harry wasn't sure if he wanted that or not. After all, it still felt a little... snakey to slip in under the cover of darkness to shag Draco while he slept. Sure, it was for his own good, and even Tonks noticed that the Healers seemed to be urging Kirley to stick around. That is, until Kirley picked up on a medi-witch to take home as a consolation prize.   
  
Even though the conversation had Harry on pins and needles, he couldn't help but notice the way that Tonks and Ron looked at one another. There was a fond familiarity there, which could've been borne of the fact that they'd shagged and had been partners, but Harry fancied that he saw some sparks. Maybe it was wishful thinking, though. Surely Ron would need time to get over things and move on. He was heartened when she complimented Ron's braces.   
  
But now he was in Draco's room, the shades pulled against a magic window that simulated a starry night. It left slats of light across Draco's pointed face and lit his hair in that eerie blue way that reminded Harry of being outside, and how beautiful Draco was restrained as a Veela. But then, he found Draco beautiful all of the time now. Had he always been? Harry remembered thinking of him as being ferret-like and certain the blunt slope of his nose hadn't changed. His cheeks had hollowed some, but that just made him look pointier.   
  
There were dark circles under his eyes that showed off his pale lashes. They'd been there since at least sixth year, hadn't they? Yet somehow, even though Draco was nowhere near perfect, even though his hair and skin were too pale, making him appear surreal and odd, Harry couldn't help looking at him without thinking about what a stunning man he was.   
  
Harry rolled the soft, white blanket down from Draco's chest, revealing the cotton gown beneath that had ridden up to the top of his thighs. Harry could barely make out the tenting of his cock through the gown. It was almost as if Draco was quietly agreeing to this violation. Or maybe Harry was just hoping.   
  
Pinching the fabric between his thumb and forefinger, he pulled the gown up, crunching it up over his abdomen to see the dark outline of Draco's hard cock leaning against his skin. He slid his hand over it, slowly teasing him as he watched Draco's face flinch and contort.   
  
"Am I affecting your dreams, Draco?" he asked softly, as if he could answer.   
  
With Draco's cock firmly in his hand, Harry leaned in to kiss the side of his face, nuzzling the soft white hair. He even enjoyed the light scrape of stubble from Draco's cheek as he kissed down to his lips. Right. Kissing. He was supposed to try kissing first and yet he'd already grabbed Draco's cock. It had only been a few days, but he'd already missed touching him. Missed just the sound of his voice and the expressions on his face when he thought Harry was saying something particularly objectionable.  
  
He thought about how much he missed him, how much he wanted him back, if even to snap at him as he delved his tongue into Draco's warm but lifeless mouth. He stroked the familiar places, the roof of his mouth, the sharp of his teeth, the softness of his tongue, trying to coax it back to life. But all he received in return was the strange taste of potions.  
  
Harry tried to breathe life into him as he continued the kiss as he crawled into the bed with him, straddling Draco as he pulled his robe up. He hadn't worn anything under it, not sure of how much time he'd have. It made him feel satisfyingly naughty to be walking about with his prick half hard under a single layer of material.   
  
Spread out over Draco, his legs on either side of his hips, Harry thought about the curse flung at Draco. Obviously the kiss wasn't enough, so he broke it, pressing soft kisses over Draco's face, the moisture glittering when highlighted by the limited light in the room. No one really knew about the curse, only really knew what the perpetrator said, which was that a "shag" had to occur. But he never said who needed to be the receptive partner.   
  
Maybe it was warped logic, but as far in the dark as he was about the dubiousness of this consent, Harry thought perhaps it would be less invasive if he let Draco inside of him. His hand started to shake at just the notion of it. It had never really occurred to him until now to do this. Circumstances seemed to keep leading Draco to bottoming, and he still could now. His legs would be easy enough to move. Dead weight, but not stiff. He could fuck Draco like this, turn him over and take him, or just push his legs up and slide in. It would be so easy to do. Too easy, maybe.  
  
But would that show Draco, or show the curse that he loved him? Pulling the lubricant from his robe pocket, he spread it out over Draco's cock and continued to stroke him, keeping him hard and spreading the fluid around on him. He reached back with his other hand, sliding his fingers between his cheeks and fingered himself.   
  
Harry still wasn't entirely convinced that this was what he wanted to do, but he wanted to know how it would feel. Would it hurt? Pushing his finger inside of himself, it didn't exactly hurt, but it didn't feel brilliant, either. Uncomfortable, a little. He moved a second finger into himself and it pinched a bit as the skin stretched out to accommodate him. Already he was breaking out in a sweat.   
  
He jumped when he heard a bump at the door and stared down at the shadows in front of it. They weren't moving. But no one was making any noise of warning, either. Still, it was a reminder that he needed to get on with it before someone came in and he was arrested.   
  
Standing up on his knees, he crawled forward and grabbed Draco's cock again to line him up against his opening. Harry took a long, deep and shaky breath, preparing himself for the widening invasion and then pushed back, grunting at the hard stretch he was being forced to endure. He fought his body's natural urge to force him back out, trying to relax the clenching so that he could fit more of Draco inside of him.   
  
He almost thought he couldn't do it, but then he gazed at Draco's face. It was pinched up in bliss, his face contorted and blushing. Harry inhaled deeply again and then exhaled slowly, sitting down onto him. "Draco," he whispered as he spread out over him. He wrapped his arms tightly around his limp torso, trying not to cry that though Draco seemed conscious enough to register it, he wasn't awakening. "I think... I really do... love you. I know I bollixed it up. I'm sorry. I've never done this before and I don't know what I'm doing." He nudged his face against Draco's neck and moved against him.  
  
"Harry?"   
  
Harry hadn't thought so far as to sort out what to say when Draco awoke. He burned with humiliation over what he'd just said. Not to mention that he had Draco lodged inside of him. But the simple answer seemed the best. "Yes?"  
  
Draco was gasping for breath and blinking as he looked around wildly for a moment and then shifted his hips and groaned. "Oooh, God... "  
  
Hissing at Draco's movements, Harry watched Draco come to his senses and then eyed Harry in alarm. "Where are we?"   
  
"St. Mungo's."  
  
"Why am I fucking you at St. Mungo's?" asked Draco as he brought his arms around Harry. He slid his hands down his back and pushed Harry down harder on his cock as he started to move in a steady rhythm.  
  
"You were hexed. I had to... you wouldn't wake unless you were shagged." He decided to leave out the part about his being in love with Draco. Even magic seemed to know it before he did and now that he knew, he wasn't sure if he was ready for Draco to know.   
  
"I was having this dream that you were touching me... after staring Kirley down all day," Draco gasped, his body moving ever faster.   
  
It was starting to hurt to withstand the force of Draco's crude thrusts, but that wasn't all that was bringing tears to his eyes. Suddenly, he seemed to understand the immenseness of this moment, of feeling completely open and vulnerable to someone else. He understood now why it was that Draco cried after they'd first fucked. "I was here all day," he whispered, just clinging to Draco, trying to relax, wanting to feel Draco get off inside of him, to know that he could do this for him, so he could be this for him. "He wanted to be the one to shag you."  
  
Just when Harry thought he might go mad from how hard that Draco was pushing into him, Draco froze and shuddered, back arched and cheek pressed against the pillow as he cried out. He pushed into him a few more times after that, dragging out his orgasm until he flopped against the mattress, panting for breath.   
  
Harry just watched him in his release for a moment, amazed with what he'd done to him, that he was responsible for that and that now he was slick inside with Draco's come. Reflexively, he squeezed around Draco's prick; his body trying to expel him again and Draco whimpered and twitched till he dragged out of Harry. After a beat, Harry felt the slow dribble of Draco's release oozing down out of him. He felt empty now, stretched out and clenched his arse as if it were a muscle spasm that could be stretched out past the soreness.   
  
He was about to explain more to Draco when he felt a cool, soft hand reach under his robe and wrap around his waning length. He'd been excited enough about Draco being inside of him, but the pain from his roughness had wilted him some. Now that Draco had a hard hold of his cock, he was left speechlessly rutting into it.   
  
With force that Harry didn't expect from someone so recently unconscious, he was pushed down against the bed with Draco's face hovering over his cock. In a blink, Harry felt first the balmy breath of Draco's mouth and then the blessed, exquisite warmth of his mouth wrapped around his cock. He only managed to get half of him into his mouth, but it felt more than brilliant, even with the warm dribble of come slipping between his cheeks and oozing onto the bed. This time, he was going to block out any other thoughts than just how good this felt, because nothing but this really mattered.  
  
He wanted to fuck Draco's mouth deeply, to get himself into him all the way to the base, but it was all Draco could manage and Harry realized he was lucky to be getting anything from him. He slid his fingers through Draco's silky hair, trying his best not to force his head further down onto him. Harry groaned, twisting against the bed, arousal and surprise keeping him from holding out for as long as he wanted. He wanted to keep sliding in and out of Draco's mouth all night, but there were time constraints and he could feel Draco getting sloppy and his head bobbing was erratic as he got tired.   
  
"Close," Harry warned, but Draco didn't let up and Harry shivered that Draco wanted to swallow his come. Grabbing the sheets tight, he pulsed his release into Draco's mouth, listening to the quiet slurping and sucking as he drank him down and then lapped at the tip of his cock, cleaning him up, leaving Harry twitching an exhausted as he gazed down at the lump of Draco's head over his groin.   
  
"Draco," he breathed, caressing the side of his face, trying to coax him up to kiss him.   
  
Draco gazed up at him and crawled up his body to share a languorous kiss. Harry tasted himself on Draco's tongue and mouthed  _I love you_  into the kiss as if Draco might understand it by sheer will and would return it. He tried to will him to say it back, concentrating hard as if that would work.   
  
The kiss ended and Draco just gazed down at him and said nothing. In fact, he looked almost scared. It took Harry a moment to figure out why that was and he shook his head and whispered, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have... it was stupid."  
  
"Yeah, it was." Draco kissed Harry's forehead, brushing his lips over his scar, and then pushed back to lie down on the bed.  
  
Right, the sex was over. Time to face the music. "I'm sure you wouldn't want to think of me with..."  
  
"Chang? The Weaslette? Potter, your sexual history is public record and while I realize you didn't have sex with them, I can't eliminate the possibility that you've done loads of things with them that I wouldn't wish to witness or think about. This is why I don't think about those things. It's called being a grown-up."  
  
Awake for all of twenty minutes from a serious curse and already giving lectures. Harry couldn't help but smirk a little, realizing this meant he felt better. "Right. I get it. I do. It was just a... stressful moment. My best mates and all..."  
  
Draco's hardened expression softened as he seemed to realize what all else had been going on and that Harry did have reason to be a bit wiggy. He nodded. "Not our finest hour."  
  
Tonks's voice sounded loudly from the other side of the door and Harry sprang from the bed, dropping his feet to the floor as Draco grabbed up his covers. Her voice grew in volume until the door was thrown open by a Healer who snapped the lights on with her fingers causing Harry and Draco to cover their faces at the sudden onslaught.   
  
"What is going on in here? It smells like... Mr Malfoy! You're awake! Where's Mr Du--" her eyes widened as she looked at Harry Potter, her expression practically writing the headlines already. Harry Potter, The Boy Who Buggered. "Oh, my."  
  
"Your discretion in this matter will be appreciated," said Draco sternly as he straightened out his bed linens.  
  
"Oh, of course, sir!" she said, clearly thinking of what she could ask for compensation from the  _Prophet_.  
  
"I'm fairly certain that St. Mungo's doesn't want the reputation of being a facility where coma patients might be buggered in the night. Of course, to combat that they would likely blame the night Healer on duty. Seems like it would be a bad job for that night Healer, don't you think?" said Draco.   
  
Harry was impressed with how well Draco could make blackmail sound perfectly reasonable, and even polite. But then, Slytherin. Although he really thought it would be cooler if Draco could just wave his hand like a Jedi and say, "This is not the monkey sex you are looking for." But then, what were the odds of Draco Malfoy saying "monkey sex" anyway? Or knowing what a Jedi was. Ah well. Harry was still impressed anyway.  
  
She looked fussy as she left and prattled on about him needing rest and being released in the morning. Draco was chuffed and tilted his head up in victory.   
  
"Wotcher, Harry! All made up, then?" Tonks grinned at Harry and even Draco.  
  
Harry looked at Draco with his brows up. "Yes, yes, everyone's friends again. And I suppose this means my private assignment is over. Provided Kirley's stalker was apprehended?"  
  
Nodding, Harry could only breathe a sigh of relief. It appeared that his whole attachment to Kirley really had been for protection. He wanted to ask more about it, but remembered his past reactions and decided to leave that to the past.   
  
"Brilliant. Well. It is quite late and... as thrilling as company is, I'm quite spent." Draco leered at Harry, who blushed.   
  
Ron made a face and headed out, followed by Tonks. Before Harry could go, Draco grabbed his arm and pulled him in, "We still need to have our meeting. There's a lot we need to talk about."  
  
"Yes. Do you want to meet Monday?" asked Harry as he pressed his hand over Draco's.  
  
Draco smiled and nodded. "Monday would be perfect."  
  
  
\--  
  
Song Lyrics to "Nancy Boy" by Placebo 


	8. Episode 8: The Plot Thickens

" _CRUCIO_!" the terse voice of the mysterious Japanese man pronounced, pointing his thick wand steadily at Kirley Duke. Kirley writhed and yelled under the curse. "So weak. Such a frivolous musician. Unworthy."  
  
When the spell subsided, Duke twitched with the aftershocks of pain. His jeans were soaked through with sweat, his chest still left bare. Moments prior, he'd been snogging with this older, distinguished gentleman. The power the Japanese man held made the little hairs on the back of his neck stand on end; it was the sort of feeling he got when he watched Draco practicing magic.   
  
Kirley likened the Japanese man to fire; it was pretty, but treacherous. Still, Kirley couldn't resist the risk, loving the energy that fed off of the unknown. He hadn't thought about this strange man being dangerous to  _him_. When Kirley's stalker had been put away, he thought that was the end of any and all threats to his life. Now he wasn't sure if that was going to be the last of his poor decisions.  
  
"I'm wealthy. I'll... I'll give you anything you want. Do..." Duke choked, coughing from the pain, from the feeling of incredible weight on his chest. He wondered if that meant internal bleeding. "Do anything you want."  
  
"You will do what I want whether you wish it or not," said the Japanese man, holding up his wand. The man leered in the gloom of the expensive hotel room. It was a large suite, decorated in the garish shabbiness of hotels that bought in bulk but still wished to appear exclusive. Painted gold torches with globes of light hanging overhead, stock moving paintings of unlikely Victorian scenes where the people prattled on about inoffensive nonsense, unable to move from picture to picture because of the generic magic used to create them. It was just the sort of hotel room that one would believe a man on business from Japan might occupy.  
  
Duke was raised from the carpet up to the yellow and white fleur-de-lys duvet and dropped unceremoniously back onto the bed he'd fallen from in the commencement of torture. Quietus charms had kept anyone from hearing Duke's wailing, but that part of the evening seemed to be over.   
  
Beams of razor white light shot from the brass head and footboards of the bed, collecting Duke's arms and legs, leaving him bloodied, bruised and pinned down. The Japanese man sat down on the bed next to him.   
  
"Just a little note for my dear Ryuu," he said, holding a dagger made of crystallized dragon's blood over Duke's chest. "This knife will make its mark. Permanently. If I don't handle this _just right_  I'll strike too deep and you will bleed out."   
  
"What are you doing? No. Don't!" Duke screamed.   
  
"I must encourage you to remain still." Across his chest, the Japanese man spelled out in kanji the symbol for dragon. "Up until now, Ryuu has played a good game of ignoring our boxes. That is well enough, they weren't for him," he said, indifferent to Duke's howling as he carved into his skin.   
  
"Mr Mifune," said a tall, preternaturally pale man who licked his fangs as he stared longingly at Duke struggling. "Can't I just have a taste?"  
  
Kirley was shocked by the presence of someone else in the room. Or some _thing_  else. It was good that the blade was off of his chest by then or his startled reflex might've ended him.  
  
Mifune pulled the sodden blade from Duke's chest and spattered the blood at the vampire. "There. Your taste." Turning back to Duke, he said, with a wry grin on his face, "Should you survive to say anything, tell him Mr Mifune sent you. But I think he'll know where the message came from either way. So don't hang around on my account."  
  
Duke stared in horror at the man, hoping that this wasn't the end. He memorized everything about Mr Mifune, from his eyes to his slight accent, down to his left hand with the severed pinky tip. He panted through his teeth, determined to hang on. "But I don't know any Ryuu..." he protested.   
  
The weight on the bed shifted, dizzying now after the torture and the loss of blood. Mifune laughed as if he'd just heard an amusing cocktail joke as he handed his dagger to the vampire to let him clean and carry it. Before he left, he smiled pityingly and said, "My dear musician, that is where you're quite mistaken. You know our Ryuu quite well. It is Japanese for dragon. Tell our little dragon that we miss him for too much to let him stay gone. We are coming for him."  
  
  
\--  
  
In retrospect, Harry wasn't sure why he hadn't anticipated his "great save" of Draco Malfoy to make the paper. Draco's cover as the 24-Karat Ferret had been blown when he was cursed and the  _Daily Prophet_  had speculated on Kirley Duke breaking the curse. That pair had been media darlings since their sham relationship first started, and obviously to draw out Duke's psycho stalker.   
  
Now Harry was being cast as the interloper into the brilliant May-December romance and he found himself once again being referred to as hysterical and deprived of love. Though she was well-intentioned and actually right as far as Harry was concerned, Luna's  _Quibbler_  articles that Kirley Duke was a chicken-hawk and that Harry and Draco's romance spawned from that fine line between love and hate since early childhood didn't help matters.   
  
To his credit as being a brilliant friend, Ron spent the weekend merely mocking the self-effacing moniker Draco took and relived the memory of Draco being turned into a ferret while Harry quietly sulked at what all of this attention was going to do to his job and his relationship with Draco. He'd never  _quite_  gotten around to sharing his feelings with Draco, and now Draco would have read at least a hundred times how he was brought back to life from the Sleeping Beauty Hex because of  _true love_.   
  
Harry Apparated several blocks from Draco's building with the theory that with a long enough walk, he would come up with the perfect thing to say to break the ice. There were so many ways this could go. He reasoned that surely Draco felt something for him, as he'd brought him presents and sucked ice cubes and him and.... the more that he thought about what he'd taken as signs of encouragement, the more ridiculous it seemed. Draco had tangible proof of Harry's feelings printed daily in the paper and Harry had a smutty netsuke he'd slipped into his pocket to bring with him as if it would ward off Draco's ability to deny feelings.   
  
The vision of himself holding up a Japanese figurine and saying, "No! I know you love me! You gave me three-dimensional porn!" made him shudder inwardly over how pathetic it seemed even in his head.   
  
Passing a flower vendor, he gave it some thought, but that just conjured images of Duke being outside of the door and Draco being kidnapped and Harry just didn't want to go there. He thought about showing up to their early morning meeting with nothing, but given what was being printed, he knew he had no shield to pretend he didn't have feelings. Coffee sounded reasonable, as it was morning and even though they were meeting at his flat, the gesture would be there.   
  
He bought the coffee, grateful for the cold reality of the Muggle world in which he was not a household name, and schlepped the rest of the way to Draco's building, shivering in the early morning chill. Fall was coming and with it the inevitable grey days. It was no comfort for what he was to face.   
  
By the time the gold mirrored doors of the lift pulled back, Harry was in full-on brood mode. He was pleased that at least Duke wasn't sitting outside of Draco's door and chimed the bell with a knuckle, half expecting Draco not to answer.   
  
What he heard surprised him. It sounded as if furniture were being broken to get to the door and then the hard padding of running feet. Harry had moved one of the coffee cups under his arm as he pulled his wand at the ready when Draco threw the door open, looking a bit mussed in his indigo blue robes. Half of his face was red with a signature pattern of fabric on his cheek. Harry pressed his lips together to keep from laughing at Draco's state.   
  
"You're late," Draco huffed, rubbing an eye with the heel of his fist like a sleepy child.  
  
"We could've met after your  _nap_ , you know." Harry handed Draco the coffee. "I wasn't sure how you took it, but you look like you could use it."  
  
"I was in a coma, you know," Draco huffed, but he stepped aside to let Harry in and shut the door behind him.  
  
A short walk into the living room showed the riot of sofa cushions splayed over the upturned coffee table and magazines scattered over the floor. Draco pulled his wand and righted it all with a few quick spells.  
  
"What, no fancy wandless magic?" asked Harry before he took his seat on the couch.   
  
"What about my being in a coma did you not get?" he asked as he took a spot a chaste cushion down from Harry. "Did you get cream?"  
  
Harry dumped a wad of non-dairy creamer and sugar packets onto the coffee table from his pocket. Draco gave him a pained look as if Harry had just thrown excrement onto his furniture and summoned cream and a container of raw sugar from his kitchen, letting it settle with two spoons on the table. He also summoned a proper mug for himself and transferred the steaming liquid into a tall cobalt mug and commenced with adding cream and sugar to his coffee while Harry sipped his own plain coffee in amused introspection over Draco's fussiness.   
  
"So, we've much to talk about, Potter," he said, finally settled with his coffee. "The news media says that you're in love with me, did you know?"  
  
Were he in a situation comedy, Harry would've done a spit-take, but as it was, he simply swallowed the bitter fluid and tried to figure out the proper response to that opening line. "I am aware."  
  
"Seems you would need to be, or at least need to believe that you were, in order to break that enchantment. I'd say you'd found a way around it, except that given what we were doing when I awoke..."  
  
"And I really am terribly sorry about that. It was presumptuous and were there any other way..." Harry started, already feeling that knot of guilt forming again.  
  
Draco held his hand up and shook his head. "Don't be such a girl's blouse about it, Potter. You did what had to be done to break the enchantment. It wasn't merely a... joy ride... as it were."  
  
"But I did enjoy it..."  
  
"Did you really?" asked Draco, his eyes dazzling as he beamed. He cleared his throat and seemed to shut down again, forcing himself back to a more neutral, composed state. "In any case... any and all feelings that may or may not have developed over the course of our partnership are... perhaps understandable, given the way that we have worked in the past."  
  
This was sounding a lot like the end and Harry stared at his coffee until he felt it start to boil. He set it down and crossed his hands in his lap. "But you don't wish to work that way anymore."  
  
For a fraction of a second, Draco looked off to his room and it appeared as if his eyes were watering, but he blinked and turned to face Harry and nodded slowly. "I don't want... another partner. I don't want to be shuffled off with Tonks or Weasley. I want to keep working with you and if we... you know how the Ministry is. We can't see each other like that."  
  
Somehow, it managed to both sting and be completely flattering to be told that Draco didn't want another partner, but didn't want to date him. He wanted to plead and say that the Ministry didn't have to know, except that most of the Wizarding world already knew and they would probably be lucky not to be split up when they showed up for work today.   
  
He wanted to ask what would happen if the Ministry did split them up anyway when Draco leaned forward and said, "I really need a partner right now more than I need a lover. I need to trust you with something and I need it to be... I need you to be... we have to..." But before he could spit out what he was trying to say, he jolted and reached into his pocket.  
  
Harry reflexively reached for his own wallet, feeling the vibration of his Auror badge shaking in an emergency alert. He flipped open his wallet to look at the shimmering card that normally held his identification, but now spelled out a message:  
  
 _Kirley Duke attacked. Bring Draco Malfoy in for questioning if he does not voluntarily turn himself in._  
  
Of course the Ministry would know that he was sitting with Draco given the coordinates with their badges, they probably narrowed in on it first thing. He looked up at Draco who was calmly pocketing his own wallet.   
  
"I know you didn't do it," said Harry.  
  
"They think I did it?" he asked, looking at Harry in sudden horror. Draco furrowed his brows and then suddenly appeared terrified when he looked into Harry's eyes. "I didn't do it."  
  
"I know. You had your coma and you were asleep." Harry gestured, but realized he had no idea where Draco was the night before. "What did they tell you?"  
  
"It just said he'd been attacked and to come in. Harry, it doesn't make any sense. Why would I attack him? I'm not even interested enough in him to attack him!" Draco looked around wildly and then back to Harry.   
  
Harry wanted to ask what Draco had been about to tell him, but he felt another hard vibration and Draco's startled jump told him that he was being summoned again. "Let's just go in and we'll sort it out."  
  
Draco rubbed his forehead and then looked at Harry, his expression making it clear he had resolved to trust Harry. As much as Harry wanted to hold him right then, to tell him that it would all be all right, that he would take care of it, he knew he shouldn't-- which was pretty much why he pulled Draco in and hugged him tightly. "Don't worry. I'll get to the bottom of it. You know I will."  
  
At first, Draco was stiff, stunned. But then he melted into the warmth of the embrace and hid his face against Harry's neck. "There's so much I haven't told you. You might change your mind."  
  
There were so many terrible possibilities that flew through Harry's thoughts at those words, but for now he pushed them aside and kissed Draco's temple. He remembered that Draco insisted that he needed a partner right now and not a lover and steeled himself to let go of him. "Come on, let's go."  
  
\--  
  
As soon as Harry entered the Auror cube farm with Draco by his side, no less than four hit wizards leapt up to seize Draco.   
  
"Good work, Potter. Good to see you've your priorities straight," said one with dark brown hair. He recognized him as a Hufflepuff of Cedric's year, but his name escaped him.   
  
The statement speared through his heart and he couldn't help but feel he'd betrayed Draco in some way by bringing him in. He should've known something like this would happen given the phrasing. Harry cursed himself for not dragging Draco off so they could straighten things out.   
  
Draco caught Harry's eye as they were binding his wrists and disarming him and shook his head, telling Harry not to worry about it, that he'd expected it. Draco didn't even look particularly frightened, not like he had earlier when he'd read the news. Mostly he looked bored but for that jut of his chin and determined glint in his eye.   
  
Harry had seen that look far too many times at school to not know what it meant, and he was heartened with the thought that those hit wizards had no idea what they were in for.   
  
"That's our Potty, work first every time," said Draco, the sneer so evident that Harry could  _hear_  it. When Harry looked at him again, Draco winked and nodded.   
  
He wished he could share Draco's cool calm, but he didn't. "Where are you taking him? He didn't do anything."  
  
"They're just taking him to the interrogation room for questioning," said Kingsley.   
  
Harry wheeled around to glare at Kingsley. "Interrogation room? For what? Why would he attack Kirley Duke? It makes no sense!"  
  
"Which is why they're going to ask him about it, Harry. He's not under arrest."  
  
By the time Harry turned around to point out the bindings on Draco's hands, he was already down the hall, being led into the interrogation room. Harry knew that Draco's bravado was an act. He'd seen how frightened Draco had been when he'd gotten the news. He wished Draco had chosen to play it more contrite; the arrogance just made people  _want_  to break him, but that choice wasn't his to make. "Then why did they cuff him?"  
  
"Because they're afraid of him," said Kingsley. Harry whirled around again to look at him and Kingsley nodded towards his office with a quick jerk of his neck.   
  
"But there are  _four_  of them, and they took his wand," Harry protested as he followed Kingsley to his office. He fought the urge to fly into the interrogation room with his wand blazing. He knew the sort of techniques the hit wizards thought appropriate to use-- many of which were inhumane, but were sanctioned by an over-eager Ministry out to prove it was tough on dark magic since it was an election year-- and he couldn't even think about what they might do to Draco.  
  
"I know, I know," said Kingsley as he shut the door behind him. He pulled his wand and swirled it in an intricate pattern. With a sharp crackle of light and electric pop, a mild orange glow hazed around Kingsley, extending out to wrap around Harry. "Now, we may speak freely."  
  
Harry took a seat in front of Kingsley's desk, wild-eyed at this magic employed and why Kingsley of all people found it necessary. "Speak freely about... what?"  
  
"I need to know what Malfoy's told you. There is a lot going on you don't know about." Kingsley took his seat behind the desk and leaned toward Harry. In spite of the magic already in place, he was speaking barely above a whisper.  
  
Stomach knotting up at the second time he heard he was ignorant of who or what Draco really was, Harry searched his heart and knew without a shadow of a doubt that Draco hadn't done anything to Kirley Duke. Nor was he as bad as everyone seemed to believe. He had some awesome powers and no, the Ministry didn't know how or why, really, but he  _knew_ Draco and as angry as he may have ever gotten, he couldn't see him doing anything truly evil. "He hasn't told me anything."   
  
Kingsley nodded slowly, eyes narrowed on Harry's face. "Not even about Kirley Duke?"  
  
"He didn't do it."  
  
"How do you know that?" Kingsley shot back.  
  
Harry crossed his arms, looked at the edge of the desk a moment and then peered up into Kingsley's eyes. "I was with him last night."  
  
Pressing his lips together, Kingsley just stared at Harry. Feeling the tendrils of Legilimency sliding over his mind, Harry blocked it out immediately. Thanks to the Auror training, he'd finally gotten good at that. He had to wonder how desperate Kingsley was to try. "Don't lie to me, Harry."  
  
"I'm not."  
  
"We can track your badges," said Kingsley.  
  
"But Grimmauld is unplottable," Harry responded.  
  
"Malfoy's flat is not."  
  
"So you know he was there all night, then?" asked Harry, sitting forward, trying to figure out what Kingsley was playing at. He didn't need any keen intuition to figure out that things weren't adding up for Kingsley any more than they were for Harry.  
  
"He could've left his badge at home."  
  
"And maybe I left mine at Grimmauld," Harry retorted.   
  
"It's possible," said Kingsley, leaning back in his chair. "But we both know that it isn't true."  
  
Harry just stared at him.  
  
"Harry, I'm going to need you to be honest with me. I need you to trust me so that I can trust you. I don't think Draco did this. In fact, I know he didn't. Everyone knows he didn't."  
  
"What? How? Then why is he in there?"  
  
"Tell me the truth."  
  
None of this made any sense at all. If they knew Draco hadn't attacked Kirley Duke, then they wouldn't be interrogating him about that. He watched Kingsley for a long while, wishing he was better at Legilimency. He'd fought side-by-side with Kingsley in the war. He was his friend and his mentor, and had pled on his behalf to get him in as an Auror, but demanded that Harry have formal training. As much as he'd resented it at the time, now he was grateful he hadn't just been shoved out on the streets with no instruction. "I wasn't with him last night. But I did go to see him early this morning. He was going to tell me something, but we didn't get that far. All I know about him is that he trained at some monastery-- although I don't think it was a monastery, per se-- and that he seems to know a lot about Japan."  
  
"Japan." Kingsley said with a low finality. He nodded slowly as if things were clicking into place in his mind and not painting a favorable picture.   
  
"Is there something wrong with Japan?" asked Harry.   
  
"Do you read the Wizarding news much?" asked Kingsley, conversationally.   
  
"Erm... well, it's usually pretty sensational, isn't it?" Harry winced, feeling uninformed because of the implication, but given the quality of the Wizarding news, he didn't see the point in it usually.  
  
"It is, it can be. You have to read between the lines a lot with it. Dig for the truth, as it were." Kingsley steepled his fingers and stared down at them. "A few months ago, there was a huge uprising in Japan. The Yakuza had for many years hired Wizards and magical beasts to act as Yojimbo-- assassins or mercenaries-- to enforce their leadership. These Yojimbo were traditionally mostly scattered, but they had begun to join forces, forming their own sort of organization, training and practicing and bringing in new recruits."  
  
Harry's eyes widened as he also felt the pieces sliding into place. The Japanese man. Draco was afraid of him. The netsuke, the katana. He hadn't been trying to hide his connection from Japan at all, at least not with Harry. He cursed himself for not being more on top of things to catch Draco's hints, but then; he'd never really dug into the news. At least he hadn't inadvertently said anything before now that would condemn him. "And you think Draco was..."  
  
"It would provide an explanation for why he is trained. Their xenophobic philosophy would've meshed well with the Death Eaters, but of course, Draco being English would've made it hard for him to be accepted in the group. But as we've seen, he does have some extraordinary power, which they would have seen and made an exception for." Kingsley tapped his fingers on his desk and said, "None of which is against the law, in particular. Not unless he'd actually committed any crimes under orders there. The Yakuza is an insidious part of Japanese culture, much more integrated into their politics starting from feudal times."  
  
"So... I don't... understand. If it's not illegal to be part of this group..."  
  
"The problem is, the Yojimbo banded together to form their own ruling class. They began trying to take over the Yakuza in what was to be a bloody war fought in the streets. Not all of the regular Yakuza members were Muggles, of course, but many were and there was a huge slaughter before they were mostly stopped by the Wizarding community in Japan."  
  
Harry swallowed and brought his hands up to cover his face. "And Draco..."  
  
"The captured prisoners blamed it on a Ronin. A blond devil who called himself Ryuu, the Dragon. As a gesture of apology for the bloodbath to the Yakuza, all surviving Yojimbo were made to sacrifice the tips of their pinkies as a sign of their wrong doing. The Ronin was said to have escaped mysteriously with his pinky still whole. That's about the time that we registered Draco Malfoy's magical signature back in London. Then he came to us seeking asylum."  
  
Harry's mouth was dry, his lips parted as he took all of this in. He thought about Draco's temper, the way he'd almost tortured Greyback to death. Almost. His mind raced back to that scared boy in the tower, the way his wand faltered. How he'd never seemed able to commit to killing before, but so much had changed, it was hard to say whether he thought Draco capable of murder now. He seemed to know so much, and yet.... "You know he didn't attack Kirley Duke? How do you know that?"  
  
"Because Kirley Duke is still alive and he testified it was a Japanese man with a vampire. They carved 'Dragon' on his chest and said it was a message," said Kingsley, keeping his eyes on Harry.  
  
"And those hit wizards know that?" he asked, pulling his hands away from his face to drop them into his lap.   
  
"Yes. They know that." Kingsley inhaled and exhaled slowly. "But the Ministry is taking this act as proof that Draco was involved in what happened in Japan."  
  
"But you don't believe it," Harry stated, watching Kingsley's posture.  
  
"Taking a life... " Kingsley began, his eyes foggy and distant as he stared at some imaginary point on the wall, "As you know... leaves a mark. It leaves a stain. There's something... something about it that changes you. I don't believe Malfoy's killed anyone. If I'd believed it at all, I would never have allowed him in as an Auror. I would not have put you at risk under any circumstances."  
  
Hope welled up in spite of the damning evidence mounting against Draco. Harry had a hard time imagining Draco as a dark mastermind, but he knew that Draco was prone to being carried away with the ride. He could see Draco looking for shelter after leaving the Death Eaters in terror for his life. It would make sense that he'd try to get as far away from it all as possible, and the child he remembered from school would have been impetuous enough to join up with another band for protection.   
  
Harry threaded his fingers together, bringing his hands up to press against his lips. "I appreciate your concern," he said quietly, formally. He couldn't think of what to say. His mind was racing with paranoid fantasies about Draco the dark lord mastermind to Draco the unwitting victim, puzzling it out, trying to reconcile who he knew with this new information. It was boggling. None of the pieces seemed to fit perfectly, but then, that was just Draco. Maybe now he was trying to do the right thing. Or maybe he thought being an Auror was another powerful group that could protect him.   
  
"Harry," said Kingsley gently.   
  
Opening his eyes, Harry looked up at Kingsley without moving a muscle.  
  
"It would be a natural inclination for the Japanese to believe that someone foreign would've caused such an uproar, but you have to keep in mind that it is  _very unlikely_  he could've gotten them to follow him."  
  
"Is that a fact, or is that a hunch?" asked Harry. It was an impertinent question, but one he felt needed to be asked. In Harry's experience, Kingsley's hunches were usually spot on.   
  
"Both."  
  
Harry nodded and then stood. "I need to... think about this... for a while... I think."  
  
"Take the day off, if you need," said Kingsley. "I'll monitor the interrogation."  
  
Harry winced, wishing that he weren't so stunned by what he'd just heard to worry more about what was going on in that room. At the moment, all he could feel was shock and let down and the dull ache in his heart that he couldn't quite place. His faith in Draco was faltering somewhat and he feared that it might never return to where it was.  
  
 _I need a partner more than a lover right now._  
  
"I'm going to... go for a walk," said Harry. The increased distance between he and Kingsley snapped the spell and Harry walked out of the door, holding his hand up to silence Ron's questions and left.  
  
\--  
  
As Harry made his grand escape from the building, he brushed shoulders with an insufferably smug-looking Percy Weasley. His mind returned to that moment when he and Draco dragged in from a mission and hid in the hallway to see Percy meeting with the Japanese man and Harry halted for a moment, considering. He turned around to glare at Percy's back, watching the light spring in his step as if he'd just seen pay day early and he wondered if it was connected to what was going on with Draco.   
  
After taking a couple of steps down the corridor towards him, Percy took the turn into his office and shut the door behind him. Harry clenched and unclenched his fists, gagging for someone to vent his frustrations on. But for all he knew, Draco was the true enemy and maybe Percy just helped to bring him in.   
  
Stifled by how incomprehensible this mess was, and deciding that it was probably a better idea to walk it off than get into bigger trouble; he turned on his heel and headed out. His restraint surprised even him, but he knew that if Draco was innocent, Harry wouldn't be of much help stuck in the bullpen to cool off. He rode the lift up and let himself out into Muggle London stealthily, finding the grey day quite suited to his grey mood.   
  
He eyed a news seller, wishing now that he  _had_  been paying better attention to the world around him. Then maybe he wouldn't have been so blindsided by this whole ordeal. There was so much that went on even in his little universe, though, that he had found it hard to keep up, to read between the lines. Kingsley had done it, he reminded himself.   
  
Though he wasn't particularly hungry, he stopped into a kebab shop, dressing it with whatever he pointed to. It tasted awful when he got out onto the street, but he ate it anyway, wandering around in the light drizzle till the paper was wet and clung to the meat. He tossed it into a bin and kept walking, feeling the chill cut through him to the bone, barely realizing how wide a berth Muggles were giving a soaking, shivering, mad-looking man dressed inappropriately in wizard robes with a thousand-yard stare.   
  
He rolled it over and over in his mind: the many ways he could've been duped, the many ways in which Draco had been asking for help, the speech Draco gave him about needing a partner more than a lover. He wished he'd had the sense to tell Draco that he could be both. That's what they had been doing this whole time, but now he wasn't even sure who Draco Malfoy was.   
  
Harry could wrap his mind around Draco being devious. He knew him to be ambitious. Some might say he was more of a follower than a leader, but then, he'd had Slytherin house pretty sewn up even as a first year. He wasn't hassled in the ways that Harry knew that Draco could have been. The Slytherins had all been cowed for one reason or another, and it couldn't have only been his two lackeys. It would be a mistake to underestimate him in that capacity. But killing? Harry knew what it was to take a life; he knew what it did to someone, even if he usually pushed it out of his mind.  
  
It wasn't as if he'd had a choice in the matter. It had been his destiny. He didn't understand those that would willfully do such a thing, couldn't understand how they'd rationalize it. But then, he and Draco had always been very different people. Draco hadn't shown much remorse over almost killing Ron or Katie Bell. Then again, how much remorse had he ever shown over almost killing Draco? Or dragging Ron and Hermione into situations in which they could've been killed?  
  
Without even knowing where he was going, he found himself in front of Draco's apartment building. He blinked a few times, looking around the suddenly dark, empty street. His feet were sore from walking and his stomach growled at the distant memory of the half-eaten kebab from earlier. He wondered just how long he'd been walking, his mind churning with ideas, trying to fit pieces together.  
  
Harry's pale face pointed up in the ever-present misting rain, his glasses speckled with water, he couldn't tell if Draco's flat light was on. He tried wiping his glasses with his wet robe to no avail.   
  
Only one thing for it-- Harry headed inside and rode the lift to Draco's floor. He was watching the drips form on the carpet from his wet robe, trying to decide if he'd rung the bell when Draco opened the door.   
  
"Potter," he said, his expression wary.  
  
"I'm wet," said Harry, his shoulders slumped and he exhaled sadly.  
  
"Fortunately, the hit wizards didn't strike me blind, so I was able to make that assessment on my own." Draco's face softened and he raised his brows. "Would you like help with this?"  
  
Harry took a step forward, ready to agree to it, but stopped, furrowed his brows, feeling the oppressive weight of doubt settle in on him. "I don't know if I should."  
  
"I see." Draco stretched out his hand and spoke a word and Harry was dry and he felt warmed. He could even see properly through his glasses.   
  
"Thank you." Harry gazed at Draco, wanting to say more than that-- wanting to ask him a million questions that he couldn't bring himself to ask.  
  
"The first one's free. Then I increase the price. Tell your friends where you got it." Draco gave Harry a wry smile and leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest. He was wearing dark blue silk pyjamas. "It was a joke."  
  
"I know."  
  
"There's an old English tradition in which someone makes a joke and the person hearing the joke laughs."  
  
Harry nodded dumbly and looked around as if there were someone else to laugh. He looked into Draco's eyes and pushed tentatively to see what was on the surface of his mind. He'd expected to be blocked, but instead, he saw the livid, yelling faces of the hit wizards, felt Draco's suppressed fear, blocked out by anger stemming from his core, something painful that he carried with him, used to propel him through situations he found unbearable. "I don't know if I can trust you," said Harry, pulling away from Draco's mind.  
  
Draco leaned forward and took Harry by the wrist and brought him inside, shutting the door behind him. He escorted him to the couch they'd sat on that morning and Draco summoned a tea pot, tapping his wand over it. "Wand tea isn't as good as brewed, I've decided. But I also lack the patience to brew it most days. So you'll just have to suffer with me."   
  
He poured them each a cup and then sat back and sipped his tea. Harry drank his, not sure if he really should. He eyed Draco for a moment, but it had come from the same pot. Draco grinned and rolled his eyes. "I'm glad you don't trust me out of hand, Potter. That says you're using your brain. But don't be paranoid."  
  
"Maybe if I were more paranoid to start with, neither of us would be..." Harry gestured and shrugged before sipping his tea. He wasn't sure what Draco was on about, the tea was excellent.   
  
"No, we'd've just been here sooner." Draco drained his cup and set it down.  
  
"Did you kill people in Japan?" asked Harry. Draco was moving closer to Harry, and Harry wasn't entirely sure what to make of it. Everything seemed a bit surreal now in Draco's flat; the plainness of it punctuated by the bold spots of color.   
  
"No. I've been the cause of people dying, but I've never killed anyone. It's important to me that you know that," said Draco as he wrapped his arms around Harry's neck.  
  
"I thought you wanted a partner, not a lover," Harry whispered back, not sure why he was whispering, because there was no one listening. At least, he didn't know of anyone listening. He remembered Kingsley's spell and wondered if he should cast it, but Draco had moved; one hand rubbed his prick and Harry wasn't sure that he cared who was listening or why.   
  
"You were right to be paranoid," Draco whispered into Harry's ear. His breath seemed to whirl and linger warmly as Harry's blurry mind tried to catch up with what Draco was saying.   
  
"You poisoned me?" Harry tried to look at Draco, but Draco had pulled off his glasses and he fussed with the buttons on the front of Harry's robe.   
  
"Sort of. Not exactly  _poisoned_ ," said Draco as he leaned in to kiss Harry's neck.  
  
Everything felt incredibly good, even his feet had stopped hurting, and his legs were no longer sore from all of the walking. There was nothing but Draco's lips moving down his chest as he opened Harry's sad business robes. Harry wondered if he should fight it, but instead of feeling defiant, he felt strangely calm but for the erection Draco's hands and kisses were giving him.   
  
Draco moved to the floor and removed Harry's trousers and boxers; Harry arched up and he sighed as his cock sprang free of the material. His white shirt was open but not off, his chest bared and his legs spread wide with his cock hard and leaning to the right. He flexed it a few times to keep it from falling to his thigh and then looked up at Draco, who was pulling off his pyjamas.   
  
"What are you...?" asked Harry.  
  
Pressing a glossy, lubricated finger to his lips, Draco said, "Shhh." He reached behind himself as he straddled Harry, his eyes closed as his hand moved and Harry heard the slippery squelch of his fingers sliding in and out of him, coating him on the inside. Then Draco's slick hand wrapped around Harry's cock as Draco moved his face so close to Harry's that his breath fanned over his cheek. He brushed their lips together and Harry reached for him, kissing him slowly as Draco eased himself down onto Harry's cock.   
  
As soon as he felt the solid warm clench of Draco all around him, Harry groaned and his head lolled back on the couch. He crossed his arms over Draco as he started to move into him, surprised they were doing this after all that Draco had said.   
  
Then he saw Draco's mind, or maybe it was a hallucination, but he felt as if he were truly part of him, as if he knew him, knew his thoughts. Knew that he was worried about how Harry felt about him, whether things would work out. He saw the hard core of Draco's anger and how it was wrapped around his fear and how tired Draco really was of being afraid.   
  
Then he saw to the deepest part of Draco, just as he was pushing to slide into him as deeply as he could. He saw his soul, his deeds, and his guilt. He saw the rage he held for his mum's death, why he'd left the Death Eaters, unable to kill and he felt the utter repulsion when he was told to complete his Yojimbo training he was told he would need to kill a family to show his solidarity.   
  
Draco couldn't do it. He couldn't kill. Harry opened his eyes to gaze up at Draco's face, the way his hair stuck to the tracks of sweat that slid down his temples at the effort to take each of Harry's hard thrusts. Draco's thighs had to be burning from the effort, but Harry wanted to be buried as deep into Draco as he could be.   
  
"The potion... it's so I could... " gasped Harry.  
  
"Yesss... I know... you may not trust... but... wanted you to know...." said Draco, his steely eyes open slits, cheeks flushed as he ground back against him.  
  
Harry wrapped his hand around Draco's cock and he worked it in time with his thrusts, biting his bottom lip as he kept Draco's gaze. He grunted and whined as the sensation built up, trembling from the tip of his cock, sending shockwaves down to the base of his prick. In response, his balls tightened, pulling up hard to shoot viciously inside of Draco. Harry's voice dragged out in a long growl with the release. He felt the backwash of his come slick Draco's insides in a hot liquid mess back over his thighs.   
  
He continued to watch Draco's face, measuring his breathing, the twitches in his face as Draco got closer and closer to release until he felt it spatter over his chest in warm, wet glops that ran down his chest in a slow crawl to pool in his navel.  
  
Draco stared back at Harry and then leaned into kiss him again. He tasted of tea and the growing aftertaste of the herbal potion. The potion could've been anything, Harry knew, but he also knew that without a doubt, this was what he wanted, what he needed. He slid his fingers through Draco's hair to caress the back of his neck tenderly. Each connection brought with it a new revelation, a new memory of Draco's guilt and complicity with the group, including potions that he feared may have caused harm.   
  
"I am not above reproach, Harry. I.. did some horrible things," Draco admitted as he broke the kiss. "I'll understand if you don't want to be involved, but I wanted you to know."  
  
"All right," said Harry as he worked to catch his breath. "But there's one thing I need you to know if we're going to... if I'm going to help you."  
  
Draco nodded, flushed but alert with his eyes wide and his jaw set.  
  
"Don't ever hand me something with potions in it and not tell me. I need to trust you. I want to trust you. I..."  _I love you._  And there it was again. At the root of this, he loved Draco. He had proof of it, but there was a blind element to it now.   
  
"I know. I'm sorry. I just wanted to forge a temporary bond between us so that you could see the truth."  
  
Harry winced inwardly at Draco's dubious morality that would see this as a reasonable solution, but he understood it, and in a Draco logic sort of way, it made sense. It just presumed a lot. "I know. I get that, I do. Just ask me next time. I would've probably agreed to it if you'd've told me it was going to include shagging."  
  
"Pervert." Draco smiled and leaned in for another quick kiss before hopping up. Harry slid out of him and landed with a wet slap against his own thigh. "I do believe you're quite smitten with me."  
  
"Something like that," said Harry as he looked up at Draco. Whether he could trust Draco with it or not, there was no question he had his heart. It burned inside of him just looking at him. He prayed his faith would not be betrayed. They were in this together now.  
  
"I'm going to have a shower. There are more jammies in my room if you're... well, I'd like you to stay," said Draco as he backed up towards his room. "I mean... if you don't mind. It was... a day, you know? Stay?"  
  
Before Harry could answer, Draco had slipped from the room. The subtle manipulation to make him stay wasn't lost on Harry, but he was powerless to protest. It was just how he Draco was. There was nothing for it but to go with it.  
  
 _Doesn't mean I have to play his game his way,_  Harry thought as he shrugged out of his shirt and robe and followed Draco into the shower.  _That one is going to cost him_. 


	9. Episode 9: Serpens Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus

Cold. It was freezing cold and the wind was ripping through Harry's hair. He wasn't wearing nearly enough clothing, just bare silk over his skin, robes not meant for the outdoors. The moonlight glinted off of his white hair, a jarring moment of question in his mind about when his hair had gone that shade when he heard the scream from the far hill.   
  
Running as if on a weaving trail through the trees that appeared shaded blue was a woman in white followed by a huge, terrible beast. The moon shone brightly on the scene and the men around him in hoods and masks laughed the sinister, manic laughter of the deranged taking pleasure in his suffering.   
  
He wailed, reaching out towards the figure in white as if somehow his arms could stretch out to snatch her from the beast, to pull her away from the gaining grey werewolf. Greyback. The woman screamed again and he found himself screaming back, "MUM!"  
  
His voice was high, shrieking and taut with emotion, his pulse racing as he scrambled, trying to rally against the vice-like arms that held him far too tightly. Scrambling against the figure, feeling the blubber of someone larger than him, but primarily made of fat, he jammed his elbow trickily into the man's belly, then followed it up by stomping his foot. All at once a cold metal hand was wrapped around his throat.  
  
Harry worked hard to scream, feeling everything Draco must have at that moment. The wind rustled the trees; Greyback paused and howled as Narcissa tripped. He tried to flinch and look away, but his face was held steadily down to watch as his mother was attacked, white dress bled purple in the light of the moon.   
  
He let out a strangled whine and his eyes closed.   
  
"This is what happens, young Malfoy, when we fail. The Lord still has use for you, but should you falter again, that will be you."  
  
In that way that dreams do, the scene changed and Harry was sitting on a cot, only left with the barest essentials as a soldier would. He had the vaguest notion of being taught discipline, of becoming a solider, but no one was teaching him anything. His hands shook from the bitter cold that permeated his grey room. Grey walls, grey sheets, steel cot, grey nightstand, grey light pouring in from a single high window and the notion of bars at the other end like a grey cell.   
  
The figure at the door was black and Harry wondered if he was just seeing things in black and white or if there really was no texture to this room, no color to it. The memory was strange and he reached down to feel what he knew to be Draco's rib bones, to know that he was scared, but resigned to the door opening being the last time he saw such a sight on this plane of existence.  
  
It was spooky to feel Draco so lost, so beyond feeling or help. He was ready to pass on, had prepared himself for it for days, it seemed. His stomach growled in protest to his not eating and his face prickled with stubble.   
  
"Severus!" he gasped as Snape peered into his room. He held his hand out to summon him, beady black eyes and dark curtain of hair covering his unusually pale face.   
  
Harry as Draco took his hand and Snape roughly turned it over and he dropped a small pebble into his palm and closed Draco's hand over it. He felt the hard, sickening jerk of the magic and though he was terrified, his face broke into a smile. When he landed, it was in a strange country with loads of black haired people and giant trees releasing bright pink cherry blossoms that pelted his face and caught in his pale hair and he looked around, having no clue where to go or who to see.   
  
He had his wand, he had a bag of coins that had been shoved into his pocket, but as he staggered through the winding park, Draco had nowhere to go.   
  
-  
  
Harry awoke with Draco's back to him. He had shagged him in the shower and again in the bed, deciding that he would stay the night here to Draco's faint protests. He was pressed against Draco's back, his face against his spine, Draco's hair flicked back to half cover his face. His fingers were still inside of Draco, Harry wanting to just keep feeling inside of him, playing with him until he'd fallen asleep.   
  
As the muzzy fog of waking started to wear away, he wondered how much of those dreams were Harry's conjecture about what happened in Draco's life or if there were still some dregs of the potion keeping them connected, at least when he was inside of him. He'd had a few flashes of Draco's life when he'd shagged him in the shower. They were all little things, like seeing the Malfoy torture chamber, long since unused, of course, but hearing about the Malfoy family history.  
  
He thought he'd seen part of the training, the hexes, the drills, how they pushed Draco with potions and practice to bring out his Veela side at will and how terrible and yet beautiful he could become if he called it up, but also how inhuman he looked. Feeling what Draco felt, he could tell that he didn't care for the transformations. It wasn't because they were painful, because Draco had become accustomed to pain and seeing what happened to his mother had pushed him past feeling much of anything. But what he didn't like about it was how hard it was to remember her face, how hard it was to remember  _being human_.   
  
With each time they had sex, Harry could see a bit more about Draco, or at least that's what he thought was happening. He wasn't sure if he was just seeing what Draco wanted him to see or not, though.   
  
Now that it was morning and the light streamed in through the blinds onto the sparse futon-like bed, it was time to get up. He pulled his fingers from Draco, who whimpered and turned his head to the side to kiss Harry over the shoulder before staggering like an Inferi to the bathroom to have first crack at the hot water. It was such a Draco act that Harry could only laugh and get up to make coffee and debate how to spin that they were together all night. This was probably the end of their professional relationship, but Harry thought that they'd find their way back to one another. They always seemed to.  
  
\--  
  
They both arrived slightly late, but Harry actually looked tidy for once, spawning many more lewd comments than the fact that he had just arrived with Draco. After rolling their eyes at the cheers and jeers, Harry and Draco sat down and Kingsley poked his head out of his office and called for Draco, waving him in.   
  
Draco set his shoulders back and nodded, shooting Harry a quick look before he headed into Kingsley's office. When the door opened further, Harry noticed that it was just Kingsley he was meeting with and felt relieved that nothing bad would happen to him. At least, not in the office.   
  
Harry was just about to set upon some very boring paperwork when Ron ducked his head into his cube. "Going to put him on restricted duty, I heard. Think it sounds like the Japanese government isn't too pleased about us not extraditing him over there, or that's what I heard. Not sure  _why_  they want to do so, but seeing as they're likely to lop off body parts or get him to slice into his gut," said Ron, demonstrating the proper hari kare, "I don't think they're going to let him go."  
  
"Shit," said Harry as he looked at the office door. He hadn't thought of extradition, but then he hadn't been thinking of much aside from the strange dreams and the sudden onslaught of things he knew about Draco. Or thought he knew, anyway.   
  
"Yeah. Oh, but you're not under question, so I think we'll finally be on for being partners," said Ron as he took the black plastic guest chair in Harry's office. "Brilliant, yeah? But sorry about... but he's Malfoy, you know? Always been a bad guy."  
  
"Always?" asked Harry, giving Ron a look that said he wasn't buying it.  
  
Ron nodded and swallowed, seeming to understand the power of emotions as he slid his tongue over his braces. "Maybe he did change. He was a good partner, anyway."  
  
"Why aren't you partnering up with Tonks? Now we know she wasn't up the duff..." said Harry as he flipped open a file, which may or may not have been color-coded per Draco's specification.   
  
"Oh. Well. I don't know. We might... give it a go. Dunno yet. Lot of..." Ron toyed with his braces and seemed lost in thought about Hermione. Harry looked at him curiously. "I guess I didn't really have her so maybe that it wasn't her gave me permission to do... all that I did. Maybe I really am that kind of prat. Maybe Lavender is what I deserved. But I don't know. I just... I don't want to jump into something else. I know I'm not going to... I mean, Hermione's happy where she is. But I miss her so much."  
  
That was a lot for Ron to say about his emotions and Harry had a hard time keeping up and an even more difficult time trying to figure out what to say in response. "You just need time to mourn her?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"What about Lavender? Did they sort out what was going to happen to her?" he asked, watching Ron carefully.   
  
The way Ron paled made his blue eyes look that much more shocking and his freckles more dramatic. He exhaled and shook his head, rubbing his forehead. "They were going to give her The Kiss, you know? And after everything, the years and the fatherless children and... I was really ready to let her have it. But then... I went to get my teeth cleaned and... she doesn't believe in the death penalty. She believes that people are basically good and that taking the lives of someone who did wrong turns you into a murderer yourself." He sighed and laughed mirthlessly. "I couldn't disagree. So I left her in Azkaban. It's what Hermione would want."  
  
Harry put his hand on Ron's shoulder and squeezed it, proud of him for making that sort of choice. He was doing right by Hermione as best he could and Harry knew he'd be all right. "Yeah, that's what she'd want."  
  
"Ginny and Neville were over at the Burrow this weekend," said Ron, his voice pitchy for him, still wrought with emotions even if he was changing the channel. "They were announcing their wedding. It totally overshadowed Percy's run for the Minister for Magic, it was brilliant," said Ron, finding humor in Percy's frustration.  
  
Laughing with Ron, Harry nodded and thought of Ginny, wondering if she'd read the papers about he and Malfoy. Surely she had. "What did Ginny..."  
  
"Say about Neville meeting his son from Lavender? She said she always knew it was Neville's," Ron said, sobering as he pushed his hair back from his forehead. "Not sure what to do there. I'm his father, sort of. But Neville seemed... after apologizing to the point of being ridiculous... really like he wanted him."  
  
Harry was glad he hadn't finished his question. Obviously Ginny had long moved past their school romance and had bigger problems now. "Does Ginny? How do you feel?"  
  
Ron held his hands up uselessly. "I don't know. I mean, he's not really my child; he's Lavender and Neville's. Since Neville wasn't with Ginny at the time of conception, she's not that irked about it. She seemed to like him. She's babysat them before. I don't know," Ron repeated, rubbing his forehead.   
  
Harry didn't know what kind of advice to give on that other than patting Ron's back as he tried to pull himself together. He was desperately trying to come up with some well-worded token that would do the trick to solve everything, but it wasn't coming. What did come was Kingsley's door opening and Draco coming out looking solemn.   
  
He sat down at his desk and looked suspiciously at the red package sitting on his desk. He peered around, but no one looked ready to giggle, but it did have the appearance of an Auror joke present.   
  
Draco looked exhausted already and certainly not in the mood for this, but gamely pulled back the wrapping paper to reveal a black sliding box. The Aurors gathered around, murmuring about butt-plugs or gay wedding vows to tease Harry and Draco with. Others jabbed one another in the ribs to find out who set it up when Harry saw a kanji symbol he'd soon learn was the sign for snake in the corner.  
  
"Netsuke? Potter?" asked Draco as he stood, looking down at the strange figurine, a snake with eight heads and eight tails, each of which looked ornate and vicious. "Did you bring me this?"   
  
Harry was about to answer that he had not when Draco turned to pick it up. With a sudden jolt of irrational fear, Harry threw himself at Draco, catching him as he began to spin around, the small snake a Portkey to somewhere else entirely.   
  
The room was dark and lightless and as Draco called out, "Hey!" to measure the number of repeated refrains to gauge the size of the cave they were in, Harry called, " _Lumos_." and wished he hadn't done that.   
  
Stretching out around them in the still darkness was the giant version of the netsuke 8-headed snake. It was green, and each hissing, tongue-flicking face looked angrier than the last.  
  
"Friends of yours, Potter?" asked Draco as he lined up back-to-back with Harry with his wand at the ready.  
  
"It was a present given to  _you_ ," Harry responded.  
  
"Yeah, but you can speak to snakes. See what it wants?"  
  
"I'd say it wants to kill us," said Harry.  
  
"Did you ask?" Draco nimbly set up a perimeter shield around them. "Because it doesn't seem to be striking us so much as staring."  
  
"This is a magical creature, are you sure that shield is going to work?" asked Harry as he peered around the cave for rocks or something-- anything to hit the beast with. He wouldn't turn down a sword, either.  
  
"What do you mean by 'sure'?" he asked Harry, warily watching the beast.  
  
"Sure. You know-- certain."  
  
"Certainty can be subjective..." said Draco weakly, his voice trailing off at the end.  
  
That wasn't a good sign at all. If Draco was balking then he didn't think it would work. One of the heads came down to strike, easily bypassing the shield, although it did glow white and looked to wriggle like a giant vat of jelly. Draco and Harry jumped away from each other and already the creature had them split up.   
  
In a flash, Draco's dragon ring leapt out from his hand taking the form of a physical silvery shield which blocked the next head's strike on Draco while another slithered down to flick its tongue at Harry. "You are not supposed to be here, but you still smell tasty," the eight-headed snake said.  
  
"But Draco is supposed to be here?" asked Harry.   
  
The snake appeared taken aback, abandoning its assault on Draco, who was cowering under his fierce dragon shield. The shield was long, dropping almost to the floor when Draco knelt. Out of the center of it, a human-sized dragon head roared, spewing flames.   
  
"The blond one? Yes, he is our tribute, sent by our master," the snake responded. Five of its heads peered curiously down at Harry as the other three kept a keen eye on Draco, looking for a way to dodge the flame of his shield, seeming to choose a three-pronged attack.   
  
"He's not a tribute, he's my...." Well, Draco had certainly made  _that_  statement complicated to explain. Harry cleared his throat and looked shifty. "Partner."  
  
"Too bad for you," said the snake. One head was coming at Draco from above while the other two were sneaking in from the sides. Before the snake could strike, however, the shield sealed off around Draco, morphing into a cocoon around him. "Your  _partner_  leaves you to die."  
  
The snake attempted to strike the cocoon, but the metal didn't give way and the dragon head reared up to blow fire against its face. The head writhed under the flame, flailing and shrieking as the other two heads tried to put it out.   
  
Harry inhaled and quietly prayed that Draco was taking a calculated risk that the snake wasn't after him, because it would be too painful to contemplate that he prized his own survival over Harry's. "Didn't say he was a  _good_  partner."  
  
He'd never heard a snake laugh before. The sound was an eerie snarling hiss and Harry was suddenly a bit worried for what Draco was hearing.  
  
"All right, Potter?" Draco's voice was echoing from inside his metal shield. "Do you need me to Summon you?"  
  
"It doesn't seem inclined to eat me... yet," answered Harry. He was pretty sure he was speaking English, but it was hard to say since he never knew when he was speaking Parseltongue.   
  
"Brilliant. So could you tell it not to eat me?" asked Draco weakly.   
  
"What do you think I'm talking to it about, exactly?" asked Harry, feeling petulant in spite of the eight-headed snake with one burned head, which actually smelled a bit tasty.   
  
"I don't know! All I hear is  _harssheeea heth sheeee shaaa sheeeieth... Seth Green hessshhhhith._ "   
  
"Seth Green?" asked Harry.  
  
"Yeah. Why are you talking to the snake about Seth Green?" asked Draco. It was hard to tell his expression from behind the shield, making it impossible to know if Draco was kidding.  
  
"I wasn't." Another thought occurred to Harry. "How do you know Seth Green?" Muggle actors didn't seem to factor in big with the Wizarding crowd, although if anyone had the geeky comic talent to break through....  
  
"Who  _doesn't_  know Seth Green?"  
  
Harry could picture Draco's proud, insolent expression, making him grin in spite of the weirdness of the situation. "Right, well. I think you made it angry."  
  
The snake recoiled, looking ready to strike with its seven uninjured heads. Harry wasn't sure, because that was subjective, apparently, but he thought that might be bad for Draco.   
  
"Hey, so... what do I call you?" he asked the snake.  
  
It stopped and all seven heads turned to Harry. He'd never seen a snake look incredulous before, but this was proving to be an afternoon of many firsts. "You may call me Orochi. At least until I eat you."  
  
"I'm quite stringy, I'm not sure I'd be very satisfying." It was glib, but Harry needed time to think.   
  
"Better than rats," the snake answered.  
  
"Potter, what could a snake  _possibly_  have to say that's so bloody fascinating? It's a snake! What's it doing, telling you about how shedding its skin is hard?"  
  
Ignoring Draco's echoing whinging, he elected to keep his attention on Orochi. "But if you've food, then surely there's something else you'd want more than a change in diet. I don't know if you've noticed, but the blond man's pretty stringy, too. More bones than is probably worth it. Isn't there something else I can offer you?"  
  
Orochi eyed Harry with fourteen uncanny eyes, slithering in to poke over him, flicking its multiple tongues over him curiously. "You are in love with this partner of yours, are you not?"  
  
Harry nodded, finding that was easier to do without Draco being able to see it.   
  
Looking wistful, at least as far as a reptile could, Orochi turned its heads away, averting its gaze dramatically. "Though snakes are cold-blooded by physical nature, we are not incapable of love. Susa-No-Wo, the Serpent King, turned back from his evil ways for love."  
  
"What on god's green Earth are you talking about with him, Potter?" Draco asked.  
  
Sighing, Harry answered, "He says his name is Orochi, and he believes in love."  
  
Suddenly, Draco stood, his shield retracted, folding easily on itself. "Orochi?"   
  
Orochi turned its attention on Draco at hearing his name, staring impassively as it slithered closer to Draco.   
  
With a flourish of his wand, Draco produced a barrel of liquid, and then another and another until there were eight lined up in front of the monster. "Tell him it's sake, and it should drink the sake before it has its meal."  
  
Harry was about to tell Orochi this when the giant hydra-like beast dunked its heads into the barrels, seeming to get the idea without being told. "You can conjure sake?" asked Harry.  
  
"I know. Magic, right?" Draco smirked and perked a brow. "I did study in Japan, you know. If you can't conjure decent sake, they pretty much throw you out of the country."   
  
"Really?"  
  
"No. But it's a good skill to have." Draco watched the beast sloshing through the sake, flourishing his wand again as the barrels seemed likely to empty.   
  
One of Orochi's heads wobbled up from its barrel and it said to Harry. "I was in love once. Beautiful snake. Eight heads, all so identical. A skin pattern you could look at for hours."   
  
"Oh yeah?" asked Harry, not sure if he wanted to hear a drunken snake's romantic woes, but it was better than being eaten.  
  
"Yes. I thought she would lay many eggs for me, but she thought she could do better," he said glumly. "I tried to mount her once. It is the only time I... do you... and your friend... you should... show me what that is like."  
  
"What, the... mounting? Because we don't lay eggs." Harry stopped for a moment, thought about Draco being part Veela, which  _was_  a bird creature, after all. "That I know of." His eyes darted around the cave, but there wasn't anywhere to run. He did notice that Draco was giving him a very strange lusty look. His eyes appeared to darken each time he spoke in Parseltongue and Harry didn't miss the tent in Draco's robe. "Er, yeah, we have sex, if that's what you mean."  
  
"Show me," said Orochi. "Show me what it's like to have sex with someone you're in love with. I wish to watch you procreate."  
  
"We don't pro--" Licking his lips to stall for time on how to explain to an animal that not all sex was procreative sex and even if they wanted to, two men weren't going to make babies. Then he decided that was a waste because they were hardly going to spend nine months here so what Orochi didn't know, wouldn't hurt him. Now came that difficult task of convincing Draco to have sex in a cave in front of a homicidal snake. Given the massive boner Draco was sporting, Harry thought he might have an easier time of this than he might otherwise. "I'll see what I can do," he told Orochi, and then he turned to Draco. "We have to have sex."  
  
Draco's eyes widened and his jaw dropped. He leaned in and whispered as his eyes darted desperately, "With the snake?"  
  
"Er. No. With each other. Why would you think with the snake?" asked Harry.  
  
If at all possible, Draco looked shiftier and cleared his throat. "No reason."  
  
Harry looked at Orochi and then at Draco suspiciously, but decided to just Not Think About It, because, for serious, pure-bloods could be some kinky bitches. "Right, so... erm..." Looking around the cave, he wasn't sure where a good place to do this would be. The ground was muddy and littered with bones of long departed Orochi snacks. "Against the wall?"  
  
When he turned back around, he found Draco watching Orochi gorging itself on the huge vats of sake with a calculating look. "What did it say it would do if we didn't shag?"  
  
Slightly offended with the idea that Draco might turn him down, especially after all of the trust he'd put into this relationship, Harry said, "He said he'd eat us." It wasn't exactly untrue, he was going to eat Draco, he just hadn't said that he  _wouldn't_  if they did. It seemed like Draco had a plan, though and that time was factoring into that, and shagging would certainly stall for time. Besides, if Draco could serve poisoned tea, Harry could certainly omit the truth for sex that Draco was generally more than willing to have. Maybe just willing. Harry decided to debate that with himself later.   
  
"All right," said Draco as he started in on his robe, looking around, finally settling on having a go against the wall. "Can you, um..." he started as he pulled his robe up, hitching it over his hips to throw the fabric over one arm before unbuckling and unzipping his black trousers, letting them drop to expose the golden pale of his legs all but glimmering in the queer light of the cave. "Speak Parsel to me?"   
  
For a moment, Harry just gaped at Draco, mostly because he was half naked and bending over to expose his perfect, round arse and the dark crack where Harry wanted to bury his prick, but also because his request was a little odd. At least to Harry's ears. "But... you won't know what I'm saying," said Harry as he approached Draco slowly.  
  
Draco was looking over his shoulder, not at Harry, but at Orochi with that same measured, thoughtful look. Harry wondered how serious he was about snake sex. When Draco turned his attention to Harry, he was blushing. He cleared his throat, balancing on one arm against the wall. "It's sexy, all right?"  
  
"My talking to snakes is sexy?" asked Harry, not sure how deeply he wanted to probe into this matter, but as it was the only thing standing in the way of him probing into Draco, it might as well be answered. He threw open his robe and jammed his thumb into the clasp of his buckle, pulling it open quickly, followed by the rapid unfolding of his trousers. He was still waiting for an answer as he hefted his prick from his boxers and started to caress the tip of his cock along the crack of Draco's arse, pleased with the sticky dot of glistening precome it left on his cheek.   
  
"I don't care that snakes understand it. It just... since you did it second year... and... yeah," said Draco. He'd turned his head forward and let his chin flop down to his chest, which Harry knew was a tell-tale sign of blushing.   
  
"Got your cock hard at twelve, did I?" asked Harry as he pulled his wand to cast the lubrication spell. This time, he tried sticking the tip of his wand at Draco's entrance, pulling him open with one hand as the other guided it in. He was pleased at the slight liquid backwash from it that dribbled out of Draco's arse. After he shoved his wand into his robe pocket, he slipped two fingers inside of him, smearing it as he brushed his prick between Draco's thighs.   
  
"Not what I said," Draco gasped, rearing up as Harry's fingers entered him.  
  
"Nervous?" asked Harry as he moved a third finger into Draco, observing that he was a bit more tense than usual.  
  
"It's just cold." Draco's voice was high and tight. He was practically standing now, his arms folded in front of him. He rested his head against his forearms and stared to push back against Harry. "Are you going to... do the voice?"  
  
"You mean like this?" asked Harry, speaking Parseltongue into Draco's ear. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw one of Orochi's heads look up in recognition and then settle back down deciding he wasn't being addressed.  
  
Draco whimpered and moved his arms up so that his elbows were against the wall, his hands steepled as if in prayer. He pressed his forehead to the crossed thumbs as Harry grabbed his own cock, pulling the tip up and down in the crack till he felt the fleshy weakness and then thrust in solidly. He moved into him a few more times before he wrapped his arm around Draco's waist and grabbed his cock.  
  
The fabric of Draco's robe slid back down his back, gathering between them, making it impossible to see the juncture of their bodies, making it somehow more mysterious, because Harry could most definitely  _feel_  the hot pressure of Draco around him, the hot sucking skin pulling at him in stark contrast to the muggy chill of the cave.   
  
"Talk to me," Draco whined, pushing back against Harry, wavering between the fist around his cock and the one pushing inside of him.  
  
Breathily, Harry leaned in closer, not getting much force behind his thrusts, but finding the movement slow and satisfying as he hooked his chin over Draco's shoulder. He didn't want Orochi to overhear what he said, wanted his words to be only for Draco, even if he couldn't understand them. "Every time I'm away from you, I get scared that all of this will go away and you'll have been nothing but this dream. Or you'll have decided this was a phase. I don't think I would've ever known this about myself if you hadn't shown up."   
  
Sometimes things were easier to say when you knew the person would never have a prayer of knowing they'd been said. He kissed along Draco's neck, nipping at his ear as he felt the shudder ripple through Draco's body. Harry was so close to him that he could feel each minute tremble, every catch of breath, even the prickle of Draco's hair standing on end. "I'm scared to be in love with you, but even more afraid that if this isn't what being in love is like, that I'll never experience it. This has been the most intense time of my life and I can't even imagine ever feeling this for anyone else. If you even feel half so much as I feel for you right now, I think I could die happy."  
  
It was so heartfelt and sincere that it pained Harry to say, but it felt cathartic, too. And saying it in such a way that Draco wouldn't understand made it both painful and a relief. It wouldn't be held against him, it wasn't on the record.   
  
He heard Draco's hard grunt and sigh and then felt the liquid warmth on his hand. Harry was a little surprised that Draco had come so quickly, and part of him wondered if it wasn't a sign, if Draco understood what he said on some deeper level. Or maybe it was just the kink of the Parseltongue.   
  
Crossing his arms around Draco's waist, he slid his hands up over his chest, grinding harder and deeper inside of him, as if he could bury himself inside of Draco, resting his head on his shoulder, listening to the whispers and moans, feeling the rush and spark of release tingling in his legs, in his balls and from his chest. Slowly, it ebbed up and out of him and he came hard whispering, "I love you" in Parseltongue.  
  
Or at least, he hoped that's how he said it.   
  
After he'd finished coming, he panted against Draco's clothed shoulder, smelling the sweetness of whatever he used to clean his clothes but heard little else. Harry swallowed hard and asked, "Are you all right?"  
  
When Harry pulled away and looked at Draco, who was staring over at Orochi who was sleeping with a stoic expression. "Yeah, Potter, it's not my first time." His eyes flicked over to Harry and he shot him a wry smile.   
  
Harry wasn't sure if he was relieved or disappointed, but pulled out of Draco and tucked himself back into his boxers after a quick cleaning charm. He bent down to pull up his trousers, watching Draco do the same out of the corner of his eye. He didn't know what he'd expected to happen. He hadn't said it in a language that Draco could understand, after all. What he didn't expect was for Draco to break out a pair of sai daggers and head over to the beast.  
  
Orochi was out. Most of its heads were at least out of the sake barrels. One hung in it, though, another rested across the top. Most were on one or the other side of the barrels looking quite sated. Not that Harry though snakes could smile, but Orochi was making a pretty good case for their ability to look sated. He almost knew how the snake felt.   
  
"What are you doing?" Harry followed Draco who was looking down at the giant snake.   
  
Draco clapped the sai together and whispered an incantation and it turned into a katana. Then he held it up, blade down with a savage look in his eye. "Killing the snake, Potter."  
  
Before Draco could swing the sword down to sever one of Orochi's heads, Harry had his wand out and froze Draco's sword inches from its scales. It sparkled and shone with the force of the charm Harry had cast. Even Harry was surprised by the crackle of magic. Normally, he was more in control than that, but he supposed he was feeling a bit overwrought. "What? Why?"  
  
"Um... I don't know... because it wants to kill me, maybe?" Draco pulled on his sword, trying to dislodge it from where it was frozen in the air and glared at Harry. "What, you want me dead?"   
  
"No, I don't want you dead, but he's sleeping. We can just leave!" Harry didn't want to admit it, but he'd kind of made friends with Orochi. It was hard to kill something after you got to know it a little.   
  
Draco placed one boot on Orochi's neck and tried again to yank the sword from the air. "Impressive, but end the incantation."  
  
"We can just leave, Dra-Malf...Draco." he said, figuring he'd just buggered him and confessed his love in an arcane snake language. He could call him by his first name.  
  
"We can leave after I slay the beast," said Draco, eyeing his katana, which he'd had to let go of because it was engulfed in white flames. "Clever spell. Would you quit it...  _Harry_?"  
  
In spite of their fight, Harry grinned lopsidedly at being called by his first name. Plus, Draco thought he was clever, which he knew he was, but it was always nice to hear it. "No, we're leaving him alive. Besides, I don't know how to get out of here, do you?"  
  
"We could Apparate," said Draco, glaring at his rapidly disintegrating sword. He folded his arms and shot Harry a withering look, but Harry wasn't fussed or scared. Maybe he should have been, but he was pretty sure Draco wasn't going to fight him.  
  
"And why haven't you?" asked Harry, folding his arms and feeling quite smug.  
  
Sighing, Draco said distractedly, "Because there could be meters of rock and Apparition only takes you so far."  
  
"And we both know that the Portkey was likely set up to be one way," Harry pointed out.   
  
"Plus, I dropped it," said Draco. To punctuate his statement the katana burned down to a little ball and popped with a satisfying crack.   
  
The sound was enough to rouse Orochi, or at least one of the heads and it looked up and around blearily. "Oh. You've finished. You're still here. I suppose I should eat you now."  
  
"Hey! No eating!" protested Harry. The look of alarm on Draco's face told him he'd said it in English so he repeated it in Parseltongue.  
  
Orochi let out a snaky snicker. "You two are funny. No. You've entertained me and gave me sake. I suppose I can let you leave. It's better than the man who offered me human flesh. He didn't mention how little flesh there would be on the human." Orochi looked mournfully at Draco and shook a snaky head as another started to stir.  
  
"Are we going to be eaten?" asked Draco as he looked up at the two heads and almost tripped over a third as he made his way back over to Harry. Once he was over with Harry, he stood behind him, his breath warm on the side of Harry's neck as he peered over his shoulder.  
  
"No," said Harry, smiling a little that Draco was hiding behind him a bit. He'd gotten used to feeling like the sidekick; it was nice to feel like the hero again. Addressing Orochi, he asked, "Can you help us get out of here? We were brought in through magic, but it won't work and we've no idea where we are."  
  
"I could. Does that mean you'll leave the stringy one behind?" A third head roused in interest at that notion. "The man who promised him to me will be quite cross that I didn't eat him, you know."  
  
Harry was tempted to ask who that man was, but by now, he had a pretty good idea anyway. "We'll take care of that man. I don't think he'll be back to bother you. What if there was more sake?" Draco's arms tightened around him and he felt Draco pressing his hips more meaningfully against his side. He was going to need to get a pet snake to talk to. He wasn't sure he could speak Parseltongue without a snake present, but if it made Draco this lascivious... he was going to get a snake when he got home. "Draco," he said in English, "Can you conjure more sake if he takes us out of here?"  
  
"Mmhmm," said Draco as he nuzzled Harry's neck.   
  
A really big snake.   
  
Right.  
  
Focus.  
  
"And we'll give you more sake," he said, watching as the rest of Orochi's head, including the charred one sprung up. Obviously, that was the magic word. "Do we have a deal?"  
  
It was hard to negotiate with Draco frotting against him, but Harry was a man of many talents. Orochi didn't seem to notice as he seemed quite pleased with the notion. Instead of answering in Parseltongue, all eight heads moved in unison in a large, very weird nod.   
  
"Draco," said Harry, turning to him, knowing this was going to stop the frotting, but maybe he'd get lucky later. "Conjure Orochi more sake."  
  
Distractedly, Draco pulled his wand, huffing a little as he pulled away from Harry and conjured stacks of sake for the beast. Privately, Harry wondered if he wasn't trying to give Orochi alcohol poisoning, but he supposed it probably didn't matter much so long as they got out of there. And to a pet store.  
  
"Ooooh," said Orochi, only it was more of a hiss, because their mouths aren't formed to make  _ooh_  noises, but were he able to, that's what it would've been. This obviously endeared Draco to Orochi, which made it even better that the beast was passed out while Draco tried to kill it, because it was hard to spring back from a homicide attempt to being friends again. Orochi lowered a head and said, "Climb on."  
  
"Come on, Draco." Harry rather enjoyed being able to use his first name. He thought when they were back at work they might have to sound formal again, except that all of London pretty much knew they were shagging by now anyway. He'd sort it out later.   
  
Draco, of course, insisted on sitting at the front of the Orochi's neck, just behind the head. He conjured a leather bridle to hold onto and Harry slid in behind him, wrapping his arms around him. Because Harry couldn't quite help himself, he whispered another  _I love you_  in Parseltongue into Draco's ear, loving the shudder it caused. He pretended it was because he knew what he'd said and not because of Draco's weird fetish.   
  
That was the last of Harry's coherent thoughts as Orochi took them on a whirlwind tour of the caverns and twisty recesses of what must've been either a very deep cave or a very large mountain. He had the sensation that they were going very high up sometimes, and he could almost feel the tendrils of frost before plunging to extreme sulfur-scented heat. By the time the twisting and spinning ended, they were headed down a long tunnel that led to light that seemed impossibly blinding. After turning a corner, the light became even brighter, like they were headed towards a speeding train.  
  
It went on and on and on like they were traveling for kilometers at an impossible speed with wind whipping through their hair. Harry wasn't sure if it had been minutes or hours or days when finally they came out into a brilliant daylight near a peaceful lake shadowed by an enormous and unfamiliar mountain.   
  
Orochi skimmed out over the grass a few hundred kilometers and stopped, looking around with its other heads as if it were worried about being seen-- which probably it was. "They tried to kill me the last time I was out here," Orochi confided, looking at Harry. "Cut my heads off! As if they wouldn't grow back! But anyway, you didn't see me. I wasn't here."  
  
Draco hopped off of Orochi, ending the bridle spell and gave him a few hesitant pats. "What are you smirking about, Potter?"   
  
But of course, Draco hadn't heard what Orochi said. He couldn't have killed Orochi if he'd wanted to. Harry decided to keep that information to himself and try to ignore that they were back to last names. "Nothing. Just glad to be out of the caves."   
  
He waved to Orochi, who slithered around to slink back off into the small opening that was far from the huge mountain, but Harry suspected that mountain was where they were originally. He held his hand up to shield his eyes as they still adjusted and peered up at its perfect volcanic shape. "D'you have any idea where we are, Malfoy?"  
  
Draco looked wearily around and sighed before rubbing his temples. "Japan."  
  
"What?" Harry whirled around as if he expected to see kanji covered trees or Tokyo would appear if he tilted his head just right. "Are you sure?"  
  
"Unless someone's moved Mt. Fuji and the five lakes, I'd say... I can say that with a fair bit of certainty." Draco had a seat on the grass and just looked around, his eyes wide and face blank as if he were truly stymied as to what to do.   
  
"Are you... all right?" asked Harry as he dropped down next to him.  
  
"This..." Draco paused and looked up and around before looking helplessly at Harry. "This defies my ability to conjure words for how bad it is. This is so bad that--"  
  
Draco couldn't finish the sentence as, with the sound of several incredibly loud cracks, there were at least a dozen people, with black fabric wrapped around their bodies in such a way that only their eyes peeked out, holding wands pointed at them.  
  
"Yeah," said Harry as he looked up at the silent group that held them at their mercy. "I see what you mean." Their leader advanced on them and gestured sharply with his wand for Harry and Draco to stand up, which they did immediately as they raised their arms in surrender. "Really bad."


	10. Episode 10: Real Ultimate Power

"Bad, bad, bad. This is so bad," Draco mumbled. His fingers were at his temples, massaging slowly. Each movement caused the wicker basket cage he was in to creak and move.   
  
Next to him, Harry was sitting cross-legged in a suspended basket of his own. It crackled with restrictive magic to keep them from casting any wandless magic or doing anything to affect their release. Not that they'd get far considering they were inside the Japanese Ministry of Magic. At least it kept them quiet.   
  
Below them, the ninjas worked in little cubes made up of ceiling-less Shoji screens-- a hybridized version of the Auror pens in glossy teak and red. The ninjas moved from office to office, trading their reports written on Washi paper and doing very little talking.   
  
"So very bad," said Draco again.  
  
Harry sighed and said, "What's going on, Draco, what are they doing down there?"  
  
"It's not origami," said Draco flatly. He looked up at Harry, looking tormented. "Although I guess this is not as bad as it could've been. If the Yojimbo had gotten us, at least we could've fought our way out or died trying. This... we're just sitting ducks until they decide to turn us over to the Yojimbo anyway."  
  
"What?" Harry looked up at the fathomless expanse of space above them. They were held up here by magic. There would be no swinging closer to Draco to comfort him, or hear him any better. "We're in the  _Ministry of Magic_ , Draco. They're not going to just hand us over to some hoodlums."  
  
"Hoodlums? What are you, eighty?" he asked, furrowing his brows. Draco shook his head, looking like he almost envied Harry's naïveté. "Anyway, yeah. They would hand us over. This isn't England. It's called a Ministry here, but it has about as much to do with the way the English Ministry works as poached salmon has to do with salmon sashimi."   
  
Harry thought on that a moment. "It's uncooked here?"  
  
Draco shot him the sort of glare that told him that wasn't the right answer at all.   
  
" _Anyway_ ," Draco started, heaving a weighty sigh, "They probably will send  _you_  back to England, because you haven't actually done anything. Besides, you're Harry Potter and people care about what happens to you."  
  
"Draco..." Harry started, and then he stopped. He'd wanted to protest that it was untrue and unfair, but he knew that for much of the English Wizarding community, it wasn't. Draco was fun to read about in the scandal section, but he didn't think too many would truly mourn his passing-- especially if it was couched that he was involved in trouble in Japan. "I care about what happens to you. I'll make them care. If we... you know... get separated."  
  
Draco gave a despondent nod and looked down at the desk below them with the box that contained their wands. He stretched his hand out again, closing his eyes and concentrating. It moved a couple of inches before the ward around the wicker ball closed in around the magic in an amber glow and zapped Draco like a Muggle bug zapper.   
  
He hissed and shook out his hand. A few of the ninjas below looked up and glared at him and then returned to their work. Draco returned to his posture of rubbing his temples and talking to himself.   
  
"So... ninjas are actually wizards?" asked Harry, as if conversation would help.  
  
"Yes," said Draco. "Why do you think they're so cool? And by cool, I mean totally sweet."   
  
Harry's eyes widened and he looked at Draco as if he had suddenly sprouted eight snake heads. "I'm sorry, what was that?"  
  
"Ninjas have the real ultimate power. They can kill anyone they want," said Draco, rhapsodizing. "They chop off heads  _all of the time_!"  
  
"Somehow, I doubt that," said Harry. He needed to do something, and fast, because clearly Draco was losing his mind. Maybe it was too much stress or not enough sleep. Or maybe Harry finally really had fucked him silly.  
  
"If you don't believe ninjas have the real ultimate power, they'll chop your head off, too," said Draco. "Sometimes they flip out and stab, but usually they just fly around."  
  
"Are you sure you're thinking of ninjas, Malfoy?" If this kept up, Harry was going to start rubbing his own temples. Maybe the spell around the wicker was pushing him into some sort of meltdown.   
  
"This one time, a ninja was in a restaurant and a guy burped and the ninja killed the whole town!" Draco insisted.   
  
"Oookay..." said Harry as he looked down at the ninjas below them. He wasn't sure, because of the face mask and all, but he thought one was smiling. He thought about asking for one of them for help for Draco when he saw a group of well-dressed businessmen enter the room from the opposite side.   
  
"Sometimes when I think about how cool they are, I want to crap my-- shit," said Draco as he caught sight of the men.  
  
"Crap and shit are sort of the same thing," said Harry blandly.  
  
"Yakuza," said Draco.  
  
There were so many things Harry wanted to say to Draco. Things far too private to say hanging over ninjas-- that Draco evidently had some sort of frightening crush on-- in the middle of the Japanese Ministry of Magic. He wanted to swear that he'd find him, that he'd rescue him, but he wasn't sure if he even could. Kirley Duke's attack had just been a message and it was incredibly brutal. They'd probably just kill Draco.  
  
"The thing is, Harry, I came here with nothing. I don't think Snape intended for me to hook up with these people. Or maybe he did and didn't know what they were getting into, or what he was getting me into," Draco said, gazing over at him adoringly. "They trained me, but ultimately, they kept me out of the loop. It was easy for them to do, because I didn't want to know. I just wanted to have somewhere that I was safe. Obviously, I wasn't safe with them, but the time with you... waking up to you the other morning... it was the first time I've felt safe since I was a child. Thank you for that. And before we... before I'm..."  
  
Draco looked down at the approaching Yakuza looking at him. Their wands were already drawn. Harry's heart raced at what Draco was about to say, even as it broke knowing that these were likely to be their final moments together and he couldn't even touch him. Tears sprung to his eyes as he watched Draco looking down at them sadly.  
  
"Harry, I just wanted you to know that I--"  
  
 _Boom!_  
  
The room shook and the ninjas crawled out of the woodwork. Suddenly, there were hundreds of them stealing out of the shadows, all gathering to glare at a side wall.  
  
 _Boom!_  
  
"That you what?" asked Harry, leaning so close to the edge of the basket that his nose got a little shock from the containment field.   
  
"That I..." Draco started, looking bewildered, flustered and scared.  
  
 _Boom!_  
  
The baskets detached from the ceiling and floated down like bubbles. Harry was so desperate to know what Draco was going to say that he barely noticed they were moving until Draco's hand shot through the frame of the basket to grab the box with their wands. Whatever magical energy he'd used to break through that bond evidently wiped him out and he crumpled inside of the ball.   
  
 _Boom!_  
  
Even as the Earth was shattering and breaking around them, Harry trained his eyes on Draco, pleased that there was still a steady rise and fall of his chest. Harry walked his wicker ball like a hamster in a cage to get closer to him, not only because he wanted to be nearer, but he'd hoped he could maybe get a wand, not that it would likely do him much good, but one never knew.  
  
 _Boom! Crash!_  
  
The huge room was suddenly filled with light and Harry heard, "ARR AVAST! WE BE HERE FOR YER BOOTY!"  
  
That was enough to make Harry whirl around in his cage to see the bow of a giant glowing pirate ship had broken through the Japanese painted mural of a cherry blossom tree and Orochi on it. Poor Orochi.   
  
Immediately there were pirates on ninjas and ninjas on pirates, fighting the epic battle of sword versus katana, stealth versus bravado. Rum got everywhere. As did parrot droppings. The Yakuza, who had no part in the ages old rivalry, made their way to the two in the cages.   
  
Just before they reached them, the captain of the pirate ship who was wearing a garishly pink and lilac frock coat and a three-cornered hat with far too many feathers in flicked his wand and the cages rose from the floor to the boat.   
  
As they drifted closer and closer to the boat, Harry could see the pirate captain better, but he was still so backlit that it was hard to make out his features. He had an incredibly brilliant mane of gold that lay luxuriantly over his shoulders. His voice had sounded dangerously familiar, but it wasn't until he was right up on him that he figured it out.  
  
"Harry Potter, is that  _you_? What are you doing consorting with ninjas?" asked the Dread Pirate Gilderoy Lockhart.   
  
"Um. I wasn't  _consorting_  exactly," said Harry, his body and face frozen still as he tried to bend his mind around this one.   
  
"Well, never mind all of that. You'll make a brilliant ransom. I knew they were keeping something good," said Gilderoy. He plucked a bell from his breast pocket and rang it a few times and what was left of his crew returned to the deck and the magical flying pirate ship backed out of the Japanese Ministry of Magic, which was located inside of the supposedly active volcanoes of Japan, and shot straight up through the atmosphere.   
  
"Oh look and you brought Mr Malfoy as well. How exciting!" said Captain Lockhart. He summoned the box of wands from Draco's hand. "Can't have you with these! But do come by later, Harry Potter. We simply must catch up!"   
  
***  
  
Whatever had happened with that magical ball had certainly zapped Draco down and hard. The pirates had the balls disarmed and off of them in seconds, only to shove them together into a cage in the hull. At least this time Harry could identify the runic markings around the cage so he knew what sort of magic was keeping him restrained. He wondered if it was as impervious to wandless magic as the baskets had been. After all, the ninja wizards were forewarned about Draco's abilities. These pirates would have no idea.  
  
Not that it mattered since Draco was still breathing deeply in what seemed like sleep. Harry wished he had his wand so he could do a quick field scan of Draco's body, but there seemed little chance of that.   
  
The pirates on the ship seemed to mostly be wizards with a couple of squibs thrown in for brute force. At least Harry assumed they were squibs since they were doing things by hand. They could've just been honest to goodness Muggle pirates, but he didn't care that much to find out beyond trying to see who he might lift a wand from.   
  
He wasn't sure what they were so worried about. It's not like Harry would have far to go, nor did he know anything about sailing.  _If I were a ninja, I could just fly away since in my free time I'd fly anyway_. Harry shook his head, not sure where that random thought had come from.   
  
Cradling Draco's head in his lap, he tried to make him as comfortable as he could, wishing he knew something, anything to do, but maybe it was for the best that Draco was out. Given how high-maintenance Draco was in general, he'd probably be getting seasick. But at least then Harry would know what was wrong. He kissed Draco's forehead, wishing that he'd gotten to say what he was going to. He had a feeling he knew what Draco was about to say, and those were words he would've given anything to hear.   
  
 _Almost anything_ , he reminded himself. At this point, he was grateful that at least they were both still alive. That could change at any moment, he knew, but right now he had to focus on the good things. They were alive. Gilderoy Lockhart had been a lot of things in the past, but not a murderer. That didn't mean he wouldn't abandon them on some desert island, but at least then they'd have some sort of chance, which was better than the Yakuza would've given them.   
  
"Mr um Potter?" asked one of the pirates. He looked like a proper pirate with long black dreds and an eye patch. He was only missing a parrot and a shiny gold earring, but Harry supposed that anything shiny was kept from the crew lest they outshine Lockhart.  
  
"Yes?" Harry slid his fingers through Draco's hair as he visually searched the man for signs of magic or a wand. No such luck.   
  
"Captain Lockhart would like to see you in his quarters for dinner. Oh. Um. Arr," said the pirate as he took out a key to unlock the door.  
  
"'Um. Arr?'" asked Harry, tilting his head. He wasn't sure if he wanted to leave Draco, but then again, he did have some rapport with Lockhart. Maybe he could at least get him to have someone see to Draco.   
  
"I'm new. Not quite into the pirate speak yet," said the pirate, blushing a little.   
  
"Right. This wouldn't be an elaborate excuse for a writer to be lazy, would it?" asked Harry, eyeing some imaginary fourth wall and glaring a bit.   
  
 _STFU, Potter! I read up on boat terms AND the government organization of Japan! Throw me a friggin' bone or no buttsex for you!_  
  
"Never mind," Harry said to the confused-looking nameless OC. "Just take me to your leader. Or something."  
  
  
***  
  
Gilderoy Lockhart's pirate captain quarters looked as garish as a Disney set. The curtains were gaudy lilac velvet and there were candle holders with open flames everywhere. In the center of the room was a large ornate table beset with an unusual amount of food and decanters of wine. Harry wasn't sure that he could trust Lockhart well enough to eat anything that he'd served, even if the food on the table smelled delicious.   
  
He noticed in the corner, a rather lavish, large bed with matched velvet curtains around it, open on one side to reveal the inviting satin pillows and furs piled on it. Harry eyed the bed and then looked around for Lockhart.   
  
Captain Lockhart seemed to come out of nowhere, looking like a giant buttercup pirate bedecked in a yellow brocade frock coat with white frog closures down the front. His hat was a spotless white and sprouted giant yellow feathers. Were Harry American, Big Bird would've come to mind, but as he was not, he was just left thinking vaguely of buttercups.   
  
"Harry Potter, it has been so long! Tell me how wonderful I look!" said Lockhart as he crossed to Harry to air kiss each cheek.  
  
"Oh dear," was all Harry could really say. He felt grubby in comparison to Lockhart, and yet he couldn't help but be happy that he was not so tastelessly attired. He had that same uncomfortable feeling that Lockhart always gave him, and now he was expected to compliment him. "You look very... yellow?"  
  
"Yellow? Is that the  _best_  you can do for your old friend, Harry?" he asked as he pulled out a chair for Harry and indicated he wanted him to sit.   
  
Remembering how he'd foiled Lockhart's plans and ruined his career, Harry was more than a little wary, but it was entirely possible that Lockhart didn't remember that. He hoped so, anyway. Harry took an uncomfortable seat, which wasn't hard to do since the chairs were markedly uncomfortable. "You look... well," said Harry weakly.  
  
"I  _am_  well, Harry! Thank you so much for noticing. I thought this coat really brought out the highlights in my hair and suited my complexion beautifully. Plus it goes so well with my boudoir. Enough about my outfit. Let's talk about my ship. Don't you just love it?" Lockhart asked as he took his seat. He poured them each some white wine and pushed the glass in front of Harry.   
  
"Um." Harry looked around at Gilderoy's  _boudoir_  and then back to him and the highlights in his hair. This was like dealing with Draco on mescaline. "Yeah, it's really great. Very... blue."  
  
" _Lilac_ , Harry. That's a color that goes well with  _anything_. It's the new black!" said Lockhart. He took a sip of his wine and grinned at Harry. "You're not drinking!"  
  
"I'm not much of a drinker," he said. Although he could be. He might need to be if he was going to listen to this much longer. Harry eyed the glass warily and reasoned that Lockhart had poured wine for each of them out of the same decanter. Didn't mean there wasn't anything in the glass before he poured.   
  
"Oh, that's all right," said Lockhart. He took another swig of his wine. "I bet you're wondering all about me. I don't blame you. I'm fascinating."  
  
"I was just thinking that," said Harry shiftily. There probably wasn't enough wine in the world to deal with this, but he remembered that Draco was counting on him and steeled himself to the task. "How did you get out of St. Mungo's?"  
  
"That's not the most interesting story, Harry. But I suppose for you, I could talk about it," said Lockhart. He swigged his wine and poured himself another glass. He gave the bed a longing glance and then smiled at Harry. "They were trying all sorts of therapy on me to help me regain my memory and one day, it worked. But I couldn't very well let on that it had worked until I could get a hold of a wand. Then I simply erased the memories of the proper people and slipped out. Unfortunately, that story wasn't very saleable, so I decided to take to pirating and have some adventures of my own."  
  
Lockhart looking at the bed made Harry's skin crawl. Worse yet, without a wand, he knew that he could be taken advantage of and not remember it at all. "That sounds very exciting. You've had a brilliant run at it if you're taking on ninjas, yeah?"  
  
"Oh yes. It suits me quite well. I suppose I was pirating memories before, this is just a bit more literal. You and your friend Ron outted me anyway, but it was a bit of a blessing. Now I have my ship and my boys. Not as many photographs to sign anymore," he said, looking wistful.   
  
"Right. Well. Right," said Harry, taking a deep breath. He should've stayed in the hold with Draco. Coming up here was just asking for trouble. "But you seem to have done all right for yourself." His  _boys_. Harry swallowed hard.   
  
"But you've made a name for yourself, haven't you? Not just with defeating Him, but also as an Auror. I couldn't quite help to notice that you've a taste for blond men." Lockhart smiled fondly at Harry.   
  
Harry bit the inside of his cheek to keep from shuddering or otherwise acting repulsed by the look. "I guess you could... say that," said Harry carefully.  
  
"Inspired by me, no doubt. It's all right, Harry. I felt the sparks back then, too. But though I may be a bit of a scallywag, I could not act on those urges. You were far too young," said Lockhart. He swirled his wine and then took another sip. "I tried to teach you what I could, of course. And now, it seems, fate has brought us back together."  
  
Never had Harry been so happy for having an empty stomach, because that might've made him heave. His throat tightened under the strain of keeping himself under control. He wasn't only repulsed at the idea that Lockhart had lusted after him as a child, but that he seemed to think his attraction to Draco had anything to do with him was intolerable. He was at a complete loss for what to say that wouldn't be telling him off, so he kept quiet.   
  
"Speechless to have been so easily found out? Oh Harry, dear, I am terribly sensitive. A keen observer of people," said Lockhart. He stroked Harry's cheek and then yanked his hand back and stared at it. "Have you a fever, Harry?"  
  
Harry bit his tongue not to grin with satisfaction as he saw the burn welt on Lockhart's finger from touching him. Maybe he didn't have wandless magic, but his magic was obviously ready, willing and able to defend him. He exhaled in relief. "Yes. I'm afraid I am unwell. As is Draco. He's yet to awaken."  
  
"What, Malfoy? Oh, he is simply stunned from the ninja cages. Impressive that he breeched their magic enough for them to retaliate in such a way, but he's fine." Lockhart pulled out his wand and charmed away the burn on his finger. "He's just having a little nap. It's easier to transport him that way."  
  
"Oh good," said Harry, filling with relief that at least Draco wasn't irreversibly damaged. He was almost happy enough to take a swig of wine. If he thought he could trust it, he would've.  
  
"I'm not a monster, Harry," said Lockhart, looking hurt. "Besides, if he were damaged it might affect the ransom."  
  
"Ransom?" Harry froze. He chided himself for letting his guard down for a moment, for actually believing that things could be all right. Lockhart was a pirate. Of course there would be a ransom.  
  
"Oh yes. I've sent out owls to several interested parties on both of you. This is why it's so important that we sate our lusts tonight, for tomorrow you will both be put somewhere safe until negotiations are done and you are sent off to your respective petitioners. I have to admit that in finding you, I thought you would be the gold mine of the deal. I'm quite pleased with the bidding war over your little friend, though," said Lockhart, grinning to himself.   
  
Harry paled, wondering who all would be bidding for Draco. He wondered if the English Ministry would even bother if they really thought that Draco was guilty of what was going on in Japan, which just left the Yakuza, who would have loads of money to throw at Lockhart. "What about me? I could... pay for Draco," said Harry desperately.  
  
Lockhart looked confused. "But you won't need him. I'm going to give you what you wanted and you can forget all about him."  
  
What could he say to that? There was no politic answer to Lockhart, so he just said, "I'm in love with Draco. He's who I want to be with. It's not that you're... I mean, you're very, very attractive, but I've fallen in love with Draco."  
  
"Love?" Lockhart's confusion deepened and he tilted his head. Then he shrugged and sighed. "Oh Harry, you wouldn't have the sort of money that the bidders have put up. Even Malfoy himself couldn't buy himself out of this. Besides, there are other opportunities within one of the organizations that I find intriguing. I'm sorry."  
  
Harry was desperate. It turned his stomach to say, but he had to give it a try. "We could..." Harry looked at the bed and then back at Lockhart. "If you'd... give him to me."  
  
To his surprise, Lockhart laughed. "My dear boy! What an ego you have!"  
  
That left Harry pretty speechless for several obvious reasons.  
  
"I was merely offering as a favor to you! As famous and lovely as I am, I hardly need to pay," said Lockhart, beaming at him.   
  
There were several comments that came to mind about how Lockhart running a pirate ship full of fuckable men under his employ was most definitely  _paying for it_ , but he bit his tongue and nodded. "I see."  
  
"In love with him, hm? Well, that's too bad for you. I'm afraid you two aren't likely to go to the same place." Lockhart gave him a surprisingly sympathetic smile and then stood. "But never let it be said that the Dread Pirate Gilderoy Lockhart stood in the way of true love."   
  
Harry was surprised that Lockhart was giving up that easily until he saw Lockhart take a surreptitious look at the finger he'd burned on his cheek earlier. Right. At least Lockhart wasn't completely senseless and realized that taking advantage of Harry would be dangerous, wand or no. Harry stood and allowed Lockhart to see him out and headed down to the hold to be with Draco.   
  
The visit had been traumatic, but at least now he knew that Draco wasn't going to die. At least, not right now. It did give him new things to worry about, like just where they were each going and whether their luck was going to run out soon. He hoped maybe Lockhart would come to the realization that love was important and would have mercy, but he doubted it. For now, he just cradled Draco in his arms and hoped he'd wake before they were dragged off in different directions so that he could tell him that he loved him in a language Draco would understand and that Draco would finish what he'd been trying to tell him before.  
  
***  
  
When Harry awoke, he found that Draco was pulling away from him. In his sleep, he'd wrapped himself quite securely around Draco and now that he was moving and awake, it roused Harry from his sleep.  
  
"Draco!" said Harry, trying to inhale as he spoke, knowing his breath had to be a fright.  
  
"Starving," Draco muttered as he reached to the small plate of sandwiches at the edge of their cage.   
  
"Wait, I don't think we should eat anything they offer," Harry said. He sat up to pull Draco back for a discussion about this but felt the strong swirling tug and thought  _not again_.   
  
But it was too late. They were spinning through the outer sphere of magic, that other world of voices and pulling that sent them wherever a Portkey was likely to put them. Harry was worried about where they were headed, but was relieved that wherever it was, they were going  _together_. That meant at least he could try to protect Draco-- although without his wand he wasn't sure how well that would work.   
  
All at once they landed hard on what felt like a load of satiny pillows and Harry thought about Lockhart's bed and the zillion decorative pillows. He wondered if they weren't both sent to his  _boudoir_ , only wherever they were was pitch black. It smelled of must and sea water, but he didn't hear the faint echo sound of water that would indicate a cave.   
  
"Bloody buggering fucking fuckers!" Draco huffed. " _Lumos_!"  
  
A small ball of light formed in the palm of Draco's hand, eerie in its absolute white glow that flickered over his pale face. "Next time I try to touch something, Potter, you may cut my hands off."  
  
Harry reached out to push Draco's hair out of his face and caressed his fingers over his cheek. He wanted to know where they were, but he was just so grateful to be here with Draco where he could touch him and speak with him that he just had to interact a little before more practical concerns. "It's all right. You just woke up. You were out for a while."  
  
Draco stopped peering around and looked at Harry and tilted his head before a soft smile spread over his face. He leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. "Yeah, I was trying to get our wands. I figured that would... I guess I hoped you'd get our wands and get us out of there."  
  
"I wanted to," said Harry, frowning that he let Draco down.  
  
"I know if it were at all possible, you of all people would've done it," said Draco, staring intently into Harry's eyes. Draco pulled away enough to straighten Harry's glasses and pushed his hair back from his face.   
  
Heartened by Draco's declaration, Harry exhaled and nodded. He looked up and around, noticing that the room they were in was peculiar in that there were no traditional walls or ceiling, but rather that they were in the bottom of a round orb atop several layers of pillows that formed a somewhat flat surface to serve as a floor.   
  
He reached out to touch what looked like a black wall to find it was cold and wet. On further probing with his finger, he found it wasn't merely wet, but that the wall was actually  _liquid_. Squinting, Harry could see strange lights out in the distance that he couldn't quite place. "What? Where... are we?" asked Harry.  
  
Draco didn't appear any more certain than Harry was, his face a mask of confusion as he narrowed his eyes in another direction. He crawled away from Harry slowly as if he wasn't sure he should go.   
  
"Don't touch anything," said Harry quietly. That remark won Harry a look from Draco over his shoulder followed by a slight shrug as if Draco might be quietly admitting to himself that there was wisdom in it.  
  
Harry followed him. The room wasn't huge, but it was large enough for them to stand and walk around in-- about the size of a comfortable living room. There were books scattered around the floor that they clambered over. Harry took a moment to look at one which had Lockhart's grinning face entitled  _Magical Me_. "Oh for the love of..." Harry started.  
  
He was cut off by Draco's gasp. Draco had stood up and was frozen to the spot, staring in horror as just beyond the liquid wall, an open-mouthed toothy fish swam right at Draco. Harry leapt up and tackled Draco to the floor, eyes wide up at the beast. But instead of coming through the wall, the shark froze at the edge, its nose flat against the clear surface. It was as if it were suspended in time as it was moved several meters to the right until it was clear of the bubble and then it was let go of again and it swam right past.   
  
"I hate fish," said Draco as he glared at the space the shark used to occupy.  
  
Now that Harry knew what was out there, he found it rather interesting. All of those lights must be the flares and flashes of deep sea creatures who probably found it rather unsettling to have so much light cast around. Something large swam over the top of the bubble and Draco glared at the sickly paleness of it.  
  
"You hate fish? As in, you don't eat fish?" asked Harry, thinking conversation would be the only way to get that frightened expression off of Draco's face. Obviously, Draco was thinking about what could happen if the magic failed and the water came rushing in. Harry pushed that thought aside, deciding that Gilderoy Lockhart had too much riding on their survival, if only to ransom them off to  _someone_  for that to happen to them.  
  
"No, I love  _eating_  fish. I don't like seeing them swim around and... you know... try to eat  _me_ ," said Draco, wincing as something of an odd shape with glittering tendrils swept by.   
  
"I like fish. They're interesting. You know, there was a Muggle superhero that could talk to fish like I can talk to snakes," said Harry as he pulled Draco closer to him, wrapping his arms securely around his torso as they sat up again.   
  
"Why would anyone like fish? Or want to talk to them? What could they possibly have on their minds?" asked Draco. Harry was pleased that Draco squirmed around so that they could face one another.   
  
"What would you think snakes are thinking about? I imagine they have loads of things on their minds. Probably all sorts of fish politics, who gets to swim at the head of the school, whether their fishy mate is faithful to them... maybe they worry about their eggs," said Harry as he smoothed Draco's hair down.   
  
Draco rewarded him with a smile and kissed his nose. "You're a nutter, Potter. Did you know?"  
  
It was such a sweet, intimate gesture that Harry couldn't help reflecting on what they'd almost said to one another back in Japan. They were words he'd longed to hear and longed to speak in a language that Draco could understand. Now that they were snuggling and holding one another, maybe now would be a good time to talk about it. He wasn't sure how soon they'd be ripped apart again or what may yet come, so he screwed up his courage and smiled and nodded. "Yeah, I'm a big nutter. And speaking of being a nutter... you almost said something to me... back in Japan..."  
  
When he thought about his segue, he cringed at himself. Clumsy. Hamfisted. And it made him sound like he thought Draco was mad for wanting to say it. He could read all of that in Draco's confused and hurt expression. "Not that I think you're a nutter for what I think you were going to say. It's something I've... I want to say that to you, too."  
  
The damage had been done, though. Draco's gaze dropped and he shrugged. "I was about to die and probably take you down with me. Don't worry about it too much. It was just one of those... things you say when you're about to shuffle off, is all."  
  
Harry slid his finger under Draco's chin, forcing him to look him in the eye and maintain that. "Draco, don't do that. We may yet die and not have another chance to say things to one another even now. I don't believe that's why you were saying it. Don't be a coward now. Tell me what you were going to say."  
  
He could see the defensiveness in Draco's eyes, the way that they frosted over in defiance for a moment as each word hit him, particularly the notion of being a coward. He averted his eyes and Harry pinched his chin, forcing Draco to look at him again.   
  
"Draco, I mean it," he said. He could feel Draco's irritation coming off of him in waves. "Lockhart's going to sell us each to the highest bidder. Do you really think that England is going to pay more for you than the Yakuza will? This really could be it. If you won't give  _me_  the satisfaction of maybe a few hours of spending time with you where we're open with each other about our feelings, don't you at least owe it to yourself?"  
  
What little color was left in Draco's pallid face vanished as the truth of their situation hit him. His gaze darted wildly around the perimeter of the room before he finally focused on Harry. Then he blushed deeply and his expression became softer. "Harry."  
  
"Please," Harry whispered. He kissed him tenderly, tasting his lips, feeling the warmth of him, hoping it would suffuse him with courage to say what he needed to hear.   
  
Breaking the kiss, Harry looked intently at Draco, who gazed back at him longingly.   
  
After a few long, slow breaths, Draco said, "Harry, I... I... lo-- Lockhart?"  
  
Harry squinted at Draco, his mouth gaped open as he tried to figure out if he'd really heard what he thought he'd just heard. "Excuse me?"  
  
But Draco wasn't looking at him, his eyes were higher up and Harry turned to see the grinning presence of Gilderoy Lockhart standing behind them. "Aww, young love! That was a sweet kiss, but I'm the better kisser, wouldn't you agree, Harry?"  
  
"What? I never kissed you!" Harry sputtered. He turned to look at Draco who was eyeing him suspiciously.  _So close_.   
  
"Right, of course not!" said Lockhart. Harry turned around in time to see Lockhart wink obviously at him.  
  
In his fury, Harry jumped up to throttle Lockhart, but the man pulled his wand and said, "Temper, temper, Mr Potter. And I was just coming down here to tell you that your way is paid back to England. Bidding war is still active for Mr Malfoy. Quite exciting. I'd thought the wages for Harry Potter would make me wealthy, but it seems there's a keen interest in Mr Malfoy. I suppose blondes really do have more fun."  
  
Harry's heart leapt. England was bidding for Draco! He couldn't believe it, but he was thrilled. "So Draco will be heading back to London soon?" He turned to help Draco stand up with him. Either Draco was over his anger or he didn't care to think about it now, as he stood next to Harry and slipped an arm around him.  
  
"Oh no! Not England. Some sort of Japanese bidding war. I'm not sure I really understand it, but were I not so young, I could  _retire_!" said Lockhart.   
  
"Wait. England isn't bidding for me?" asked Draco, his eyes wide not just in shock, but in fear again.   
  
"Oh no, they didn't even try for you. They were only interested in ransoming Harry. I probably could've held out for a bigger price but it seemed hardly worth the bother!" said Lockhart. He looked far too happy about this and Harry considered throttling him. Maybe his face would turn that shade of lilac he was so fond of.   
  
Draco shot Harry a tortured look and sighed. He gave him a quick squeeze and kissed his temple. He started to whisper into Harry's ear, "I..."  
  
But Harry cut him off. "Wait. Look... can you... give us a few minutes?" he asked Lockhart. As much as it pained him to cut Draco off from saying that, he wanted this moment to be private. "How did you get in here anyway?"  
  
"Apparition," said Lockhart. "I was going to take you back with me personally. Normally I just set up a Portkey, but since you're  _Harry Potter_  and all...."   
  
The lascivious look on Lockhart's face made Harry want to heave yet again and he felt Draco tense next to him. For a wild moment, he wondered if Draco could Apparate wandlessly. Some wizards could do it, and certainly Draco had that kind of power. Then it occurred to him that he had no idea what ocean they were in and where they could safely land. It would do them no good to splinch themselves into the side of a rock or end up drowning because they were too far in the middle of nowhere. Only Lockhart knew where they were and he had the wand and therefore the most power.   
  
"Look, I'm never going to see him again," said Harry. "Can you just leave me with the Portkey. I appreciate the effort and all, but..." Harry looked at Draco who had a very strange, eager look in his eye. Maybe he was just ready to say those words.   
  
"Are you certain? Apparition is ever so much more pleasant," said Lockhart, looking a bit put out.   
  
It was almost funny to Harry that his kidnapper seemed to be pouting, but the situation was too serious to properly laugh. "Yes. Please."  
  
"Oh, very well," said Lockhart. " _Portus_!" he said, directing his spell to his copy of  _Magical Me_. "Just grab that when you're ready. It will take you back to London."   
  
"Thank you," said Harry, as he looked down at it.  
  
"But just  _one_  of you, so don't get any ideas!" said Lockhart, shaking his finger as he gave a genial smile to them both. "And don't take too long with your goodbyes, Harry. I know how you are!" Lockhart winked knowingly at Harry and then grinned at Draco's glare. In a flash and a loud crack that ended in a puff of pink smoke, Lockhart had Disapparated, leaving a blue rose behind.   
  
Harry exhaled and looked down at the rose. "There is no help for him. Anyway, you know what he was saying was all bollocks, right? I would never..."  
  
When Harry wheeled around to see Draco, he was shocked to find him naked. Shocked and pleased. No, more shocked, really. But it was never difficult to talk him into a shag, he just wanted to hear those words at some point before he left. Or maybe he should let Draco leave. He was trying to think of what to do about that when Draco attacked Harry's robe, unbuttoning it. "Are you in a hurry?" asked Harry.   
  
"Yes. And also, you are the most  _brilliant_  man I've ever... you just... I..." said Draco. He pushed Harry down onto the pillows and straddled him, kissing him fiercely.   
  
Distantly, Harry was worried about his breath, but this seemed like a moot point, as Draco didn't taste amiss and really, he was being undressed at a rapid pace. Brilliant? Was he sucking up to Harry to let him take his place to go to England? Harry bristled at the thought and felt instantly defensive. All Draco would have had to do was to ask. He would gladly have given his life for Draco if he knew that Draco really loved him. He didn't need to try and manipulate it out of him.   
  
"Draco," said Harry as he pushed him back by the shoulders to detangle from the kiss. But Draco already had his trousers and pants undone and was fishing his cock out. His hand was already slick with wandless lubrication and sliding over his cock. Harry couldn't help it, Draco knew just how to touch him and where and he was already biting his bottom lip as he felt the ridges of Draco's slick fingers thrumming over him. "Draco, you don't have to... I'd gladly die for you... I just want you to..."  
  
"Die for me?" Draco stopped and stared down at Harry in confusion. "I don't want you to die for me. I'd never..."  
  
Harry sat up on his elbow, looking down at the strange tableau of Draco straddling him, standing up on his knees fondling Harry's cock behind him as his own swayed inches above Harry's body. It was all Harry could do not to just reach out and grab it, but he was quite confused now as to what exactly was going on. "Why are you... I mean, I want to do this, don't get me wrong, but..."  
  
"You would die for me, Harry?" asked Draco. It was hard to tell if he was touched or terrified. Draco probably wasn't sure which he felt.   
  
At this point, Harry felt way too out on a limb to answer, so he looked down at Draco's cock and then slipped his fingers over it. "What are we doing then?"  
  
"You really don't know what we're doing or why, do you?" Draco stopped talking and leaned over to kiss Harry deeply, squirming against him as he directed Harry's prick between his cheeks and eased him in solidly. He broke the kiss to grunt and inhale from Harry's mouth.   
  
It was vexing that Draco seemed to have this plan that Harry couldn't fathom and it was even more bothersome that Draco seemed to be completely unaware of how much Harry loved him. Not that he'd bothered to say it directly, but he was here, he was doing this, he'd saved his life with a shag. Shouldn't that have counted for something?  
  
As frustrating as it was, it was difficult to remain irritated with Draco when he was plunged inside of him. It was harder still when Draco rode him so skillfully with his arms on either side of Harry's body and his back flexing and arching desperately. Draco's face was pinched up and red, his brows forming a crease over his nose. Still, he somehow managed to be gazing down at Harry, his often cold grey eyes soft, and if Harry wanted to stretch his imagination a bit, he could call the look loving.   
  
"What... are... we doing?" asked Harry. Now that his brain had caught up with the slick slide of his cock easing in and out of Draco, he started to move his hand. Normally, he would've liked to see his hand on Draco's cock, liked to think that it was his, that he owned it, owned Draco. But there was still so much mystery around him, so much that could go wrong, and he was evidently enacting a plan Harry was clueless about.  
  
"We've... done this... before," said Draco. He smirked down at Harry, a gesture which Harry found both irritating and endearing.   
  
"Yes... but... why are we..." asked Harry. He flattened his feet on the pillows and grabbed Draco's hips and held him up a few inches.   
  
Draco immediately grabbed his own cock and pulled at himself, as Harry slammed himself deep inside of Draco, his thighs shuddering from the force of how hard he thrust.   
  
"Portkey... only one person... can go through...." Draco panted. His hand was a blur on his cock, his face twisted in pleasure, especially when Harry paused to correct his angle, finding a better way to reach that spot inside of him. "Shagging... two souls as one? Or... beast with two backs?"  
  
"Charming," said Harry, referring to Draco's colorful expression. But he got it, and it was clever. If they were having sex, perhaps they would count as one person. One inside of the other. A meeting of souls. It was a bit of a romantic notion, but then, Draco had been saved by that before. He gazed up at Draco again, loving him all the more for how clever he was, and that he seemed to think that Harry would've thought of this as well. Maybe he would have, given enough time.   
  
"Want to... when we... come... together... just to... be sure," said Draco. His body was just beginning to prickle with sweat and his face took on that last pained expression just before he came.   
  
Harry moved harder and faster into him, concentrating on how amazing Draco felt, how beautiful he was, how much he loved him and how he needed to come so they could get out of here. "Going to..." Harry said.  
  
Draco flopped forward on top of him and kissed Harry deeply as he reached out to grab the book.  
  
"I love you."  
  
 _What?_  
  
Immediately he felt the gut-wrenching pull of travel through Portkeys, a sensation that he was hoping he'd get used to, particularly if it was going to keep happening every few pages. He was so disoriented that now not even he knew if he was the one who said those three words or if Draco said them. What he did know, or what he thought he knew, was that Draco was still there, that they were stuck together, clinging to one another and naked.  
  
Just then, he had a sudden thought, a barb in their plan. They were naked, and they were on their way to England. Both were good things on their own. However, he had no idea where in England they were going to land.   
  
It felt like something hit his back, and then there was a loud splash and Harry's ass felt cold. He clutched Draco as his vision tried to clear from all of the spinning and he heard, "Mummy! Harry Potter's making a weird face in the fountain!"  
  
Then the screaming started and men were shouting. Harry squeezed his eyes shut, pretty sure that they must have landed in the Fountain of Magical Brethren in the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic.   
  
A strange sense of protective modesty made him grab Draco's arse in the hopes of shielding it from public view. He could feel Knuts imprinting on his bum under him. Harry knew he should act faster than this, but at the moment, he was torn between afterglow, relief and utter humiliation. It made it hard to be rational.   
  
"Potter, wake up!" Kingsley's voice boomed at him before he felt the strong hands on his shoulders and felt Draco lift off of him. He barely had time to thank Kingsley for the blanket that twisted him and Draco together when he was dragged out of the fountain.  
  
Chaos was all around them and Harry thought it was pretty silly that two men shagging in the fountain was all it took for this kind of pandemonium to break out in the Ministry of Magic. Mothers and fathers were covering their children's eyes. Women were screaming at men who were pointing at one another as if looking for someone to blame.   
  
Draco was, of all things, cackling at the panic.   
  
"It's not funny, Malfoy!" said Harry, sure he was red from head to foot.   
  
"Oh come on, it's a little funny!" said Draco.   
  
Kingsley rolled his eyes and dragged them to the gilded fireplaces. He dragged them in with him and threw the powder and within seconds they were in Kingsley's well-appointed flat.   
  
Harry was surprised at how stylish it was, although he wasn't sure what made it so surprising. It was definitely masculine, with the trappings of leather couches and dark wood. There was a huge portrait of the London skyline at night that moved and twinkled on the large wall opposite them and to the right was a wet bar.   
  
Instead of being offered a drink, Kingsley whirled them around and summoned clothes for them to change into. He turned his back on them to give them privacy as the two smaller men put on his robes and when they said that they were ready, Kingsley turned around and made adjustments so that they fit.   
  
For a moment, no one spoke. Then everyone tried to speak at once.  
  
"We didn't know that..."  
  
"That wasn't our intention..."  
  
"London isn't safe for you anymore," said Kingsley. His voice won out over the other two and Draco and Harry stared up at him in shock. "It's not safe for Malfoy, anyway."  
  
"What do you mean?" asked Draco. He looked at Harry warily and then back at Kingsley.   
  
"I mean that the Ministry is compromised. If it hasn't been bought off, then it's at least disinterested in seeing whether you're guilty or innocent of what happened in Japan. If they see you, they'll send you back there." Kingsley turned to Harry and said, "You need to find somewhere to put him to keep him safe."  
  
Harry nodded. "Somewhere outside of London, or just somewhere secret?"  
  
"Preferably outside of London, but if you've somewhere Unplottable you could take him," said Kingsley meaningfully.   
  
"Hey, I'm standing right here!" said Draco, looking between them. He had pushed his hair back several times now, and each time he did so it seemed to make his pale hair even wilder with the static.   
  
"But Grimmauld... it was Dumbledore's spell, I'm not sure how to break it. Can it be broken?" asked Harry. He ignored Draco verbally, but slid his arm around him to pull him closer so he might feel like he was part of the conversation. Also, he was terribly afraid for him and he needed the contact after all of that.   
  
"It's your house, Harry. It can be broken, but it won't be easy. Once it's broken, though, you'll have to cast another Fidelius on it, but if you make Draco your Secret Keeper and he stays put, you'll be all right."  
  
"Stays put?" asked Draco. He tried to detangle himself from Harry, but it was futile. Harry wasn't going to let him go. "I'm not staying put! I have to fix this!"   
  
Kingsley looked down at him. "You can sort it out later. You need to get yourself hidden first, then you can start planning. I'll help where I can. Harry, you'll want to come into work as if nothing's happening. They'll question you, but the Ministry isn't going to take on your reputation, I don't think."  
  
Harry nodded, although he was pretty sure that he wasn't as unimpeachable as Kingsley might believe. "All right. After I stash Draco."  
  
"I don't need to be stashed! I can hide myself! But I need to work on this!" Draco protested, but it was weaker, as if he realized that maybe he did need some time to really plan.   
  
"Deal with it once you have somewhere you can trust. I won't know where it is, but you can count on my help. And I'm sure Ron and Tonks will help. I wouldn't trust anyone else. There's a lot of... upheaval lately. Just... be careful," said Kingsley as he stepped aside to give Harry and Draco access to the Floo. "I'd let you stay here, but I'm afraid this will be one of the places they'll look. I wasn't granted immunity for an Unplottable residence."  
  
"You were given immunity?" asked Draco as he looked at Harry with his eyes wide.  
  
"Um. Yeah. They couldn't guarantee that there wouldn't be rogue Death Eaters about trying to find me in my sleep, and... yeah. But won't they figure Draco's staying with me?" Harry looked up at Kingsley and pulled Draco with him. He tried to sort out where they could go and decided the safest bet was nowhere near the Floo network. He pulled Draco towards the door.   
  
Kingsley nodded his approval and headed to the door. "They probably will, but there's not much they can do about it outside of questioning you. You're skilled enough to lie through Veritaserum."  
  
Harry shifted uncomfortably and nodded, ignoring Draco's questioning look.  
  
"Oh, I almost forgot. You'll need wands. I assume you weren't hiding them... anywhere," said Kingsley, half grinning. He left the room and returned with two wands of radically different sizes. One appeared to be made of rosewood; the other might've been yew. "I'll want those back. I should be able to return your wand to you when you come in, Harry. I just haven't received it yet. Malfoy... yours is probably lost."  
  
"I've some other wands at my flat..." said Draco.  
  
"You can't go to your flat yet, but perhaps Tonks or someone can stop by. Those should see you through what you need to do," said Kingsley. He headed to his front door and cast a spell to see outside of it, just to make sure no one was out there. "No one's there yet. But go quickly. I'm sure they'll sort out where I took you soon enough."  
  
"Thank you, Kingsley," said Harry as he pulled Draco with him. "Thank you for everything."  
  
Kingsley waved it off. "It's the right thing to do."  
  
"Not many people would see that, or even say that in the face of..." said Harry, wishing he had better words of thanks to give.   
  
"Yes, thank you," said Draco before he tugged Harry to the door.   
  
"Go on. Get out. And good luck!" said Kingsley.   
  
Draco opened the door and Harry followed him, his pulse racing. He thought he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. It might've been a hallucination or it might've been a ninja. He wasn't going to stick around to find out. With a loud crack, Harry Apparated them to the most random place he could think of.   
  
"What is that smell?" asked Draco.  
  
Harry looked around and sighed. "Wales." 


	11. Episode 11: Grim Old Place

"Wales? What are we doing in  _Wales_?" asked Draco.   
  
A few feet away, a twig snapped as a sheep stepped over some bracken. Draco must've felt a bit jumpy as he was up from the ground and into Harry's arms. Harry teetered, but managed to distribute the weight evenly enough that he didn't topple.   
  
"It's just a sheep," said Harry as Draco wriggled around to get another look at it. Harry pressed his lips together to keep from giggling, as really, giggling would be rude, girlish and would guarantee he wouldn't get laid again in this century.   
  
Draco cleared his throat but didn't get down. "Right. Well. That would explain the smell of wet sheep. Why do I smell cabbage?"  
  
Harry was tempted to remind Draco that he was in Wales, but that just seemed like belaboring the point. "That's probably what Madam Marsh is cooking."  
  
Draco turned his head the other way to see the unassuming cottage in the distance. The day was darkening into evening and the lights were already on. They lit up in a warm glow from each window in the stone. "Madam Marsh. She's the witch that's always puking on the Knight Bus isn't she? Half-blood, you know."  
  
Sometimes Draco's categorical memory for names and people surprised Harry. It was like he had some sort of running ticker in his head about blood purity and random facts about everyone. Outside of that awe was a mild annoyance that Draco still pointed such things out. "I don't know about her  _heritage_ , but yes, she does get motion sick. She was a friend to the Order, though. I found out during the war that this was where Hagrid brought me on Sirius's flying bike the night my parents died. It's a safe house outside of Ministry control."  
  
During the speech, Draco turned around again in Harry's arms and looked down at him. His arms were around Harry's neck and he gave him an apologetic smile and some of the tension released from Harry's neck. Habitual recitation of blood purity he could deal with, he supposed. "She's not going to make us eat cabbage, is she?" he asked petulantly.  
  
"I don't think she enforces cabbage eating," said Harry. He grinned up at Draco, seeing the fight drain out of his face, giving over to weariness that seemed to hit Harry at the same time.   
  
"Very well, carry me there," said Draco in the midst of a sigh, his hand flailing towards the cottage.   
  
"What? You've legs. Use them!" said Harry, almost dropping Draco out of spite. Before Draco had said anything, he'd been tempted to carry him there just because he enjoyed Draco holding on to him, but if he was expected to, that was a different matter.  
  
"You said there were sheep!" Draco protested, wriggling around so that he was hanging off of Harry with his legs wrapped around his waist.  
  
That made it significantly harder to say no to, and Harry knew he'd done that on purpose. "Are you afraid of sheep?" asked Harry.  
  
Draco rolled his eyes. "No, but where there are sheep, there are things that sheep leave on the ground and I don't want to step in it and get my shoes dirty."  
  
Behind him, he could feel Draco wriggling his feet as if displaying his shoes.   
  
"They're not even your shoes! Kingsley gave them to you!" Harry protested, half laughing as he started towards the cottage.   
  
A discussion like this could last all night and he really was rather tired. Draco may not enjoy boiled cabbage, but hungry as Harry was, he thought he could stand a serving or two. It smelled like it had bacon in. His stomach growled and was answered by Draco's.   
  
"Even so," drawled Draco loudly, as if it could cover the sound of his rumbling tummy, "no point in both of us tracking muck in, yeah?"  
  
"Quite," said Harry as he tried to avoid the lumps as he trekked to the cottage. It was bent logic, but as they were almost there anyway and he was tired, he just let it go with a quick stolen kiss to the corner of Draco's lips.  
  
It was then that he remembered the  _I love you_  lost in the void of travel. He still wasn't sure if he said it or Draco had. Draco wasn't fleeing in terror, so if Harry said it, he wasn't upset by it. Neither was he looking expectantly to Harry for a response, so if he said it, he was brilliant at playing it cool.   
  
He decided that this, amongst many other things, would work out better to think about after some food and a good night's sleep.  
  
***  
  
"What, we can't do the whole... two souls as one thing to get into Grimmauld?" asked Draco. His expression was cheeky before he returned to picking the sultanas from his Welsh cake into his mouth. They were both in better spirits after having a good night-to-afternoon sleep in.  
  
After a dinner of pork and boiled cabbage, they weren't long for being awake and had flopped into the guest bedroom together without so much of a question. Madam Marsh proved to be a rather good cook, which was fortunate for her considering how often she tasted everything twice.  
  
As it turned out, she never passed her Apparition test and therefore had to take the Knight Bus when she wished to go out as Muggle transportation made her even more ill. Harry was pleasantly surprised that Draco said nothing sharp to her about any of it, but instead just sat in the cheery yellow kitchen contentedly with a large mug of tea until she bid the men goodbye so that she might run her errands.  
  
After she left, Draco made a rather tasteless bulimia joke and once again the world was set to rights.  
  
"Erm, no. I don't think that would fool the Fidelius Charm, as it's rather pickier than that. Even if it could, the moment I pulled out of you, you wouldn't know where you were," said Harry. He took a bite of his Welsh cake, finding it rather similar to a scone, but flatter.   
  
"That sounds enjoyable, but logistically problematic," said Draco, wrinkling his nose at the mess he was making before giving it up as a bad job and taking a piece of bacon instead.  
  
Harry blushed as he pictured him carrying Draco around all day, lodged inside of him. He didn't think it would work, but he was interested enough in the idea to try it.  
  
"No," said Draco, grinning with a brow perked.  
  
"Anyway, my house is our best bet for keeping you safe and in London," said Harry, his blush deepening at being caught in his fantasy.  
  
"All right. But you said it's under a Fidelius Charm and I've no clue how to break that," said Draco who was shooting him a dirty look, indeed.  
  
Mysteriously, Harry said, "I think I know someone who can help us."  
  
***  
  
Had Harry thought about it for even a few minutes more than he had, and had he not been quite so in a hurry to impress Draco with his idea, this awkwardness might've been avoided. There was no way for Draco to know whose door he was at and it wasn't until Bill opened the door, his face still marked with the deep lines of scarring from Fenrir Greyback's attack years ago at Hogwarts, that Harry realized just how big a gaff this was.  
  
Draco paled and grabbed Harry to steady himself as Bill glared at him. Then Bill's face broke out into what Harry knew well enough to be his fake smile-- the one he used to placate Molly Weasley with. His eyes turned to Harry and he said, "Harry, good to see you."  
  
"Who ees at zee door?" Fleur called from behind him. Harry felt the claiming tendrils of Veela magic before he saw Fleur's face. "'allo 'arry!" she said cheerily. Then her face turned stony as she looked at Draco.   
  
What happened next surprised most everyone. Fleur pushed open the door and crossed to Draco. Her arm went up and Harry thought she might strike him, but instead, her head tilted and she caressed his cheek with two fingers. He did the same in a strange, stiff sort of salute that made the hairs on the back of Harry's neck raise as he watched.   
  
There was something odd and primal about this interaction, and there was the definite swirl and feedback of magic. It wasn't sexual in any sort of human sense, more like a feline greeting before Draco stood back and puffed his chest and Fleur turned and looked a bit coy.   
  
No. Not feline. Bird-like.   
  
 _Oh_.  
  
Bill stared at the interaction with puzzled agitation and then looked to Harry for explanation. "I expect it's the Veela blood in them both. Though, this didn't happen at Hogwarts."  
  
"Malfoy was but a boy zen, no?" asked Fleur, who had finished her odd little dance and settled in with her arm around Bill to reassure him she wasn't going to leave the nest. Pun most definitely intended.  
  
"No. I mean. Yes. Er," said Harry as Draco exhaled and shook his hair back proudly, tilting his head up.  
  
"I was a man. I was always a man. I just hadn't..." Draco started.  
  
"Molted?" asked Harry. He tried to edit the bitterness at seeing Draco so flustered over someone else out, but it didn't work. Fortunately, it did break the tension and Bill laughed.   
  
Draco shot Harry a look with his eyes narrowed, but he was fighting his grin down. He brushed his fingers over the back of Harry's hand, almost like he was going to take it, but pulled away at the last moment. It was a little silly to play coy when you'd been in the press as being saved by buggering the Boy-Who-Lived and then caught naked in the fountain with him the day before, but Harry didn't feel this was the time for such a discussion.   
  
In fact, he was starting to feel a bit conspicuous.  
  
Sensing Harry's discomfort, Bill stepped aside and gestured broadly to invite them in.   
  
Out of the corner of his eye, Harry thought he saw a flash of black down the hall. It could have been a shadow, or perhaps it was a ninja. He looked at Draco, but he didn't seem to notice anything amiss. Still, Harry shot a wary look around him, wondering if he was paranoid or not paranoid enough.   
  
Bill and Fleur had set up in a simple one-bedroom flat. The decorations were kept to a minimum, but their furniture was stylishly striped red tones that complimented the wood flooring and gave the room a modern feel without seeming cold. The window looked out on a courtyard that the building seemed to have curled itself around, giving a view of the pool and people across the way.   
  
"We're saving for the move," said Bill as Fleur pulled her wand to summon tea.   
  
On one side of the living area was a door presumably to their bedroom, with another ajar that glowed with a permanent nightlight. It was a stark contrast from Grimmauld, which was dark, dingy and in spite of the fact that the dark objects had been removed from it, still held a stifling air of moodiness.   
  
In the corner sat a desk with open books and Harry remembered that Ron mentioned Bill was studying up to perhaps go back to curse breaking. After being cooped up in the desk job at Gringotts, Bill was ready to get back into a more active job and Fleur was open to living in Egypt again, even if she had reservations about Bill taking such a dangerous position again.   
  
Harry also knew that  _saving for the move_  was code for saving for a baby. Under severe threats if he ever mentioned it to anyone, Ron had confided in Harry that Bill and Fleur were having trouble conceiving. There was a lot of technical talk that involved Fleur being a Veela and the curious nature of what Greyback's attack had done to Bill that Harry had missed, but now he started to wonder if there wasn't a reason Fleur was so happy to see Draco.   
  
He watched them talking animatedly as Draco sorted out his tea and Harry's mind started to build a terribly elaborate fantasy of Bill, Fleur and Draco all together. His face must've hardened at the thought, because Bill broke the silence, "She has that effect on blokes. She never does anything with them, don't worry."  
  
For a flash of a second, Harry felt paranoid. He looked over at Draco. He was standing a little close to Fleur, but appeared to otherwise be fine.   
  
He needed to keep an eye on that situation.   
  
Wistfully, Bill sighed and smiled at Harry again. "So what brings you here?"  
  
That Bill asked told him that his vanishing and what had gone on in Japan had been suppressed. He also hadn't seemed alarmed to find Draco on his doorstep, which meant that Draco wasn't technically a fugitive. Yet.  
  
"I need to see about breaking the Fidelius Charm on Grimmauld so that I can..." Saying he needed to  _hide_  Draco would be a very bad job, so he said, "Move him in with me."  
  
"Are you sure that's what you want to do?" asked Bill almost immediately. He smiled fondly at Fleur a moment and said, "It is awfully fast, but when it's right, it's right."  
  
When Harry looked at Fleur and Draco, they were doing some sort of complicated hand and foot maneuver that looked almost like dancing, only Draco usually had better rhythm than that. He tilted his head, watching and then shook his head and looked back at Bill. "Yeah. He's a bad dancer, but I..." he trailed off and then wondered if it was wrong to tell everyone else before he told Draco. Fuck it. "Love him."  
  
Bill clapped him on the back and beamed at Harry. "Good on you. Well, the thing with the Fidelius Charm, as I recall when Dumbledore cast it, was that it was to secure the secret of the headquarters of Order of the Phoenix."  
  
"Yes, I know," said Harry, looking at Bill oddly.  
  
"Meaning," said Bill, eyeing him carefully, but as he saw Harry wasn't catching on, he said, "that you just need to either dissolve the Order of the Phoenix, or declare Grimmauld as your home and not the headquarters of the Order."  
  
"Oh," said Harry, blushing that it really was pretty easy and obvious. He felt really silly for coming out here to Islington over that.   
  
"You didn't think Dumbledore would go and die, leaving you with a house you couldn't use, did you?" asked Bill, clapping him on the back.  
  
"I guess... I did," said Harry.   
  
"No, no. Remember how the Order had to leave Grimmauld out of worry that Bellatrix might be able to invoke her rights to owning it after Sirius passed away?" asked Bill.  
  
Nodding, Harry recalled that he'd had to order that foul house-elf Kreacher in order to prove that Sirius had been able to bypass any sort of enchantments that might've been on the house that might've prevented Harry inheriting it.   
  
"Right, well, he didn't have to recast the spell when the owner changed, because the Fidelius Charm was never on the property itself, but on the  _Order headquarters_ ," said Bill.  
  
One of the questions that had bothered him about the night that his parents had died was how Hagrid could've seen the house at Godric's Hollow if it had been under a Fidelius Charm, but now he realized that the secret was  _where James and Lily Potter were hiding_  and was not the address of the house. When the Potters had died, the secret no longer mattered and Harry was revealed at the house. Things made a lot more sense now. "So how do I declare it to be my house?"  
  
"Oh, very dangerous magic there. You'll have to shag Malfoy and as you come, you scream, 'This is my house!'" said Bill.   
  
"Really?" asked Harry, thinking that seemed like a pretty weak premise for ending a spell, even if he was already hardening at the thought.  
  
"Er. No, Harry," said Bill, laughing. "Sex ending spells is pretty silly."   
  
Harry blushed and shifted from foot to foot. "Yeah. Crazy." Awwwwkward.  
  
"You just go in and declare that this house is a residence. It'll still be Unplottable, of course, but if you're still worried about Death Eaters, you can always have a new Fidelius Charm put on you. Try to avoid putting it on property in case of the worst, though. London's crowded enough without losing property!"  
  
"Right," said Harry. He laughed a little at that, wondering if Unplottable would be enough. If he put a charm on Draco and he died... Draco would be very lonely with no one being able to see him. He'd have to sort that out later. "Thanks, Bill."   
  
Now that Bill seemed to be loosening up and the strange swoopy dance that Fleur and Draco were engaged in seemed to be winding down, Harry found himself hoping that they would be invited to stay for dinner, or at least tea. The day had thus far been short, but he was ready for another little break in their spy-verse to just hang around.  
  
However, when the naggingly familiar dance ended, Fleur shot Bill a lusty grin and Draco grabbed his traveling cloak. "Time to go, Potter."  
  
Harry was out the door before he could ask what was going on and Draco refused to talk about it until they settled in at a kebab shop set up mostly for takeaway. It had an odd little square table and two lawn chairs as a nod to the fact that sometimes people might wait there or wish to "dine in."   
  
Once their orders were served and Draco had had a sip of his bottled water, he informed Harry that he and Fleur were engaged in a fertility dance.  
  
After Draco dislodged the piece of lamb that went down Harry's throat too fast at the news, he explained that it was merely a dance to encourage her fertility. "Honestly, Potter. You were right there. Did you see my clothes come off?"  
  
"I don't know... how all..." said Harry before swigging down half of his water, wincing that he knew the retort already.  
  
"You attended a mating ritual! Trust me, you would've noticed," said Draco. Harry noticed that his eyes still carried that reflective quality that they had that night and then smiled a little. Draco had helped them, hopefully, and it didn't look as if he'd negotiated for anything in return.   
  
"Stop grinning at me like that," Draco huffed, blushing all the way to the tips of his ears at Harry's proud gaze. He shook his head so that his hair would fall in his face so he could hide. "What grand task of buggery have we to see to now in order to get me into your home?"  
  
"None, actually," said Harry. When Draco looked up, Harry was pleased to see that he looked a bit disappointed before his expression went blank. "At least, none to get you in there."  
  
"Yeah, there could always be something inside... some dark curse that only shagging will fix." Draco looked away just then, which was just as well, because now it was Harry's turn to blush at Draco's hopefulness.  
  
***  
  
It had only taken a minute to walk in and declare the home a residence. When he looked back outside of the black door with the serpentine door knocker, he saw Draco's eyes dazzle for a moment as the aged house came into view. He gave it a terse look and with a quick glance around him, walked up the front steps and into the entryway.  
  
When Harry shut the door, the snake candelabra and gas lamps lit up revealing the still peeling wallpaper. The velvet curtains around Mrs Black fluttered lightly back over her portrait. Draco took in everything slowly, staring at the ceiling, then the stairs that led up several flights as would a proper town mansion. He ran his fingers over the wallpaper and pulled at a bit that came away easily from the wall.  
  
Harry had never really given much thought to Grimmauld, or refinishing it. In some ways, it still felt haunted by Sirius's gloomy ghost, which made him suddenly realize how much he really loathed living here. Maybe that was why he'd never done anything to it other than a few cleaning charms to keep the pests away.   
  
He was deep in contemplation about what he would do if he were to bother when he caught sight of Draco pulling apart the curtains over Mrs Black's portrait. He held his hand out, mouth open to stop Draco, but to his great surprise, she didn't start screaming.   
  
"Who are you, young man?" she asked, her eyes narrowed. "You've a look about you..."  
  
Immediately, Draco's posture straightened and his face took on a haughty air and Harry felt as if he were possessed by the boy that had tormented him in school. He'd always thought of Draco as standing tall and proud still, but it wasn't until this moment that he realized how much about him had really relaxed. "Draco Malfoy, Mrs Black," he said, with a polite incline to his head. "How do you do?"  
  
"Draco Malfoy," she said, her voice sounding wondrous. Harry stepped back to make sure that he stayed out of the line of sight. "I do well, young man. Cissy's boy? I do believe we heard of your birth before we passed on," she said.  
  
Harry had never heard Mrs Black sound in the least bit civil. It was eerie. He decided to count his blessings that perhaps the portrait world didn't get around much since they didn't know what had become of Draco.   
  
"Yes, Narcissa Malfoy was my mum," said Draco. While he was smiling proudly to speak his mum's name, his eyes were sad with regret.   
  
Remembering the dream vision he had of how he'd had to watch his mum die; Harry felt a pang of sadness for him. He thought of their younger years, the fire in his eyes in Madam Malkin's when he rushed to defend her from the harsh words that Harry had spoken to her. He couldn't quite bring himself to regret his anger-- Draco had called Hermione a Mudblood, after all, but he did remember now how protective Draco had been of her. Though she may have been Sirius's informant, she was also Draco's mum, and he ached for his loss and the grace with which Draco bore it.   
  
"So she has passed. And your father?" she asked.  
  
Draco simply shook his head and looked down at the tatty rugs. He pulled his wand and started to circle it. Harry watched in surprised fascination as the rug started to mend itself, the colors coming alive as the frayed edges knitted together. It was probably silly for him to believe Draco above such useful household charms. He lived on his own, after all, although Harry had never asked why he wasn't living in the Wiltshire Manor.   
  
"And why are you here, young man?" Her voice sounded like it was fading and Harry recalled the way that many of the portraits were darkening and fading. Maybe in spite of her protests and screeches, she was passing from her current form. Harry had a hard time really regretting that, all things considered.   
  
It was as if Draco could sense the answer she needed. Or maybe it was honestly how he saw it. He smiled slightly and said, "I was going to move in here, if it pleases you."  
  
There was a pause and then Harry heard, "Very well. But I should warn you, this place is owned by a..." she paused again and whispered as if it were a horrible scandalous secret. Draco leaned in to hear what she had to say. "Half-blood."  
  
Draco smirked briefly before pressing his lips together and then nodded gravely. "I shall keep a vigilant watch for the villain."   
  
"See that you do," she said wearily. "Now, if you don't mind, I am quite... tired."  
  
Without hesitation, Draco drew the curtains back around her and then smiled and shook his head, the expression on his face indulgent, and soft as if reliving memories of his mum. Then he sobered and gestured to the stairway to take them upstairs.   
  
"Show me to my room, half-blood," he drawled, his tone teasing, but his voice was thick with emotion. Harry turned to lead the way up the stairs, giving Draco a moment to compose himself. Draco had done so much to try and preserve his family; Harry assumed that was why this house was affecting him so.   
  
His stomach tightened as he thought of how it all seemed to madden Sirius, and hoped that Draco wouldn't sink into that sort of depression.   
  
None of the other rooms were outfitted with anything other than mattresses and moth-eaten sheets, so he headed to his room on the first floor near the drawing room. He'd sealed off the upper floors, not really seeing a point in maintaining them when he could still them. This left him in a bit of a quandary as to what he would do if Draco insisted on his own room.   
  
After a few minutes, he heard Draco's footfalls on the stairs. Draco hesitated on the stair with the special squeak. It sounded as if he were rocking his foot on it, testing it out. Then he moved up the next few stairs to the landing, but instead of entering Harry's room, he headed to the drawing room.   
  
Harry moved to the doorway to watch Draco walking around, searching it out like a cat discovering his new surroundings. His hands were tucked behind his back, no doubt a survival method for children used to a life in houses with dark magic. He wondered if Draco came by that habit by instruction or practice.   
  
He stared at the tapestry and then finally turned to Harry who was leaning against the doorframe, his arms folded. Draco's face was inscrutable. "I thought you wanted to see your room."  
  
"Got sidetracked."   
  
"There is only one room properly fixed up. You can have my room if you want." Harry pushed off of the frame of the door and pushed his hair back.  
  
"I don't think that's necessary. You can stay in your room with me," said Draco, smiling slyly.  
  
Harry's stomach flipped, but he tried to keep his face sensible and just nodded. Maybe it really was Draco who said 'I love you.' He nodded and swallowed, hoping that meant what he thought it did. "We should probably see to setting up the new Fidelius Charm."  
  
"Right then. So we don't cast it on me, or on the house, what do we cast it on?" asked Draco. He'd made it to the doorway and set his arm on the doorframe. It left them but scant inches apart and for an agonizingly heady moment, he thought Draco would kiss him.   
  
But he didn't.   
  
"I guess we'll need to start our own organization," said Harry after an expectant silence.   
  
"Our own club. So do I get to be president?" asked Draco, leaning in to brush their lips together.   
  
"You could be," said Harry, sliding his hands up over Draco's chest. "We need a name for it. It could be... Drarry."  
  
"Pfft, that's a shit name," said Draco. He grabbed Harry's hips and started walking him backwards. Harry steered them to the bedroom.   
  
The bedroom was fairly small, done up with blue walls painted over wood paneling to make it look bright-- no doubt Molly Weasley's attempt to beautify the place. It was a bed of all chintz covering over echoes of debauched actions that mimicked the carvings up and down the posts. Not that either boy noticed the frills any more than the dirty carvings. It was a good job Harry didn't notice them; he'd likely blush.  
  
"Better than Harco," Harry retorted.   
  
"What wouldn't be better than that?" asked Draco. "Guns and Handcuffs?"   
  
Harry laughed and slid his arms down Draco's back, grabbing his arse with both hands. "Order of the Dragon?"  
  
"Mmm, now there's something." Draco's sly smile told Harry he'd picked something that would appeal to Draco's ego. He was glad that Draco wasn't tired of the dragon motif in his life. "So does that make me the Head Dragon?" asked Draco, being pulled backwards by Harry's momentum.   
  
"You could be the President of the Order of the Dragon," said Harry. The back of his knees hit the pale frilly bed and he paused before taking a seat, pulling Draco to fall on top of him.   
  
"Y'know... I think I prefer Head Dragon," said Draco as he caught himself on one arm so as not to crush Harry as he started undressing. He blew a tuft of frill from his mouth as he gazed down at Harry. His expression reflected just how  _impressed_  he was that Harry had such a girly bed.   
  
"I thought you might." Harry bit Draco's bottom lip and started wriggling out of Kingsley's cast-offs.   
  
"So as the Head Dragon and only member of this Order of the Dragon, does that mean I get to set the initiation rites?" Draco pulled his robe off over his head and started working off his trousers.  
  
"Initiation rites? So this is one of  _those_  sorts of Orders, is it?" Harry had to admit that he hadn't even thought about that. He should've known that Draco would be one step ahead of him. Given where this was going, though, Harry didn't mind at all.   
  
Harry was just working off his own clothes when Draco had charmed the duvet to something softer in chenille that better worked for the colors in the room-- a chocolate brown that remained neutral and luxuriant. He rumpled it up under Harry and grinned as he spread him out on the brown bed. He was a lone figure, pressed against the bed on his belly, his perfect arse up, dick hard against the unbelievably soft fabric beneath him. He wanted very much to get this information out of Draco. He was dying to know so many things, to get the details of what they should be doing, but most of all, he wanted to know if he loved him.   
  
Had he said that? Had he meant it or was it just something he'd said out of an emergency?  
  
As Harry lay there with his arms crossed under his cheek, he heard Draco pop a top and while that might've been cause for alarm, Harry didn't bother to look as he was caught up in his own thoughts about Draco and how they were going to get out of this. They hadn't officially heard from the Yakuza, the other Yojimbo, not even Mifune had tried to make contact. This worried Harry. It probably meant that they intended to murder Draco. He couldn't let that happen. Whether he and Draco were... whatever they were... he couldn't let him die without proof. He also needed to figure out what Percy Weasley's bid to become the Minister for Magic had to do with it, although he was afraid that tie was painfully obvious.  
  
What they-- Harry and Draco-- needed to do was talk, Harry decided and he was just about to turn his head to tell Draco that when he felt his cheeks parted and a long slow tongue slid between the cheeks.   
  
In response, Harry was left hiding his face against his arms to muffle his loud, "Oooooh..."   
  
It felt incredible. Like an incredibly warm soft thing sliding between your cheeks, slickly teasing a part of your body that normally saw little interest or care. It felt thick and lush and incredibly tender. Harry's toes curled and he brought his legs up on either side of him like a frog, opening him up further so that Draco could properly eat him.  
  
Pressing both hands under Harry's arse, he moved him up a bit, sucking the spot just under his hole, between his balls and opening, finding that spot sensitive enough that Harry was left breathing in awkward squeaks as he froze to the bed, gripping it tightly at the sudden influx of nervous pleasure sensations overwhelming him.   
  
Draco backed off enough to give it a milder touch at more of a rhythm before slicking up his fingers with a quick incantation. He slipped one hand under Harry's body, wrapping his fingers under his cock and then moved two fingers inside of Harry's opening.   
  
Harry's back rippled as he writhed against the bed under Draco who was kissing the back of his neck, leaving soft, tender bruises. When he managed a third finger, Draco's lips were flushed red from pulling more love bites to Harry's shoulders.   
  
Already Harry was humping the bed, rocking up on his knees begging for penetration. "More," he whispered to Draco, looking over his shoulder with perfect lust and trust, feeling need. He wanted Draco inside of him. It didn't have much to do with a ritual, or rites, other than ones they'd just made up. This was because Harry wanted to be connected to Draco and because Draco wanted to be part of him.  
  
Draco lined up with him with shaking hands. Harry assumed this was because Draco had only done this once and he was unconscious halfway through it. Harry was trembling as well, but he trusted Draco-- trusted him with everything, including his body. He wanted him inside of him, to fill him, to be part of him in a way no one else had.   
  
It took longer than he would've thought for Draco to feed his cock into him, leaving him to wonder just how big Draco was. It ached a little, but it didn't hurt. He just felt stretched. Stretched around Draco. His Draco. His partner. Another little part of him seemed to break as Draco closed in on top of him, stretching them down over the soft bed.  
  
He grabbed Harry's hands, pressing those to the mattress beneath them as well. They rocked there for a few minutes, Draco slowly sliding in and out of him, Harry wincing now and then as a new angle caused discomfort and gasping when Draco found the right spot.   
  
Once Draco found it, his body locked into position and he held one of Harry's hands, balancing on it and driving it into the mattress as the other moved around Harry to grab his cock as Draco moved with an increasing pace inside of him.   
  
He spoke in strange incantations, whispering the words that Harry recognized from the Fidelius Spell. Casting the spell from inside of him. It made their bodies vibrate, adding a swirl and thrill of magic to their lovemaking. Harry would be the Secret Keeper. He felt the magic sew from Draco's wand and encapsulate them both. The white light emanated around them, tightening and suffocating them.  
  
Still Draco didn't stop moving. He kissed Harry's back, nibbling his ear as he rocked easily in and out of him, his hand still thrumming over Harry's cock until the spell expanded over the entire house, building with a growing hum.   
  
It felt as if they were in a giant bubble that was inflating with more and more air, building the warm pressure of the magic, finding all of the nooks and crannies that needed never see the light of day, but needed the magical protection.  
  
It built and built, so shimmering, so white and pure with Draco still sliding into him, his hand still gripped around him. All of his nerves were on edge and he held his breath until that flash of the moment where white turned silver and then black as night, exploding in the room, pulling their simultaneous orgasms out of them as they were left groaning and panting on top of each other in total blackness.   
  
After a beat, the room started to lighten again, slowly, leaving the two dewy bodies entwined on top of the covers, cooling and spent in their new safe house. The only members of the Order of the Dragon: Harry and Draco, now conveniently located (if you could find it) at twelve Grimmauld Place.   
  
They'd done it!  
  
As excited as they were, however, they decided now was a time for a proper nap.   
  
Which would've been great, had Ron Weasley not been on his way to Grimmauld to meet with Harry when the spell had been cast. As it was, he was stuck in the Floo that he shouldn't have been on his way to, quite ticked for the inconvenience.  
  
"HARRRY!! HARRY POTTER!!!! GET ME OUT OF HERE!!!!"  
  
Harry looked at Draco for help. Draco rolled his eyes and slid off of Harry, looking bored and more than a little put out.   
  
"We need to get him out of there, how do we do that?" asked Harry.   
  
Draco rolled over on the side of the bed and threw clothes at Harry.  
  
"Put something on," said Draco, waiting for Harry to do so.   
  
He stood and messed Harry's hair while Ron screamed for help, smirking prattishly as Harry became agitated.   
  
"And?" asked Harry as he slapped Draco's hands away from his hair and pulled his trousers on. Draco pulled the t-shirt over Harry's head, leaving him to sort his arms through the holes.   
  
"And tell him the new address, you're the Secret Keeper, you berk," said Draco before he flopped back onto the bed.   
  
Mrs Black joined in the chorus of angry voices downstairs and Harry glared at Draco's disconnected sense of morality as he rolled under the covers. "Malfoy..."  
  
"Do see that they all shut up. Had a brilliant shag, can't keep my eyes open," he said, over his shoulder as he pulled the covers up.   
  
Harry wasn't sure if he wanted to slap him or kiss him, but Ron was screaming, so he decided he needed to tend to that situation first. He headed down the flights of stairs at double-pace, matching the frantic beating of his heart.  
  
"The Order of the Dragon is at twelve Grimmauld Place, Ron," Harry called into the Floo before helping Ron out and dusting him off.  
  
Ron looked disoriented so Harry got him some tea and sat him down in the basement kitchen-- the further away from Draco, probably the better.   
  
"Harry. Harry... they have... they have Hermione!"  
  
There was a loud banging that sounded like several elephants rolling down two flights of stairs and then Draco was standing at the foot of the basement stairs wrapped up in a petal pink sheet flushed and flustered.  
  
Ron looked between Harry and Draco with a quick glare. It was quiet testimony to how upset Ron was that he didn't take the mickey out of Draco for the pink robe.   
  
"Who has Hermione?" asked Harry.  
  
When Ron spoke, Harry realized how red his eyes were, how pale and drawn he looked. Even his red hair seemed to have lost its luster.   
  
"These South-East Asian men-- one of them was a vampire, I think. A real vampire! They took her. I was in for my check up for my teeth and.... We have to get her back! She doesn't know anything about this world!" Ron exclaimed.   
  
Draco looked between the two and nodded slowly. "Mr Mifune will get his meeting with Ryuu. I will... set it up."  
  
"What? Draco!" said Harry. Ron said nothing, but stared at the table as if this were what he'd anticipated hearing. "You can't. We'll work it out through the Ministry. I'll go tomorrow and get it fixed. They'd just... no, Draco, you stay here."  
  
"Harry, what can you do?" asked Draco. He glared at him while Ron just looked confused that neither of them seemed utterly shocked that a pair South-East Asians would attack Hermione Granger out of nowhere.  
  
Harry looked between Ron and Draco. "Just a day. Give me a day. I'll figure something out."   
  
Ron looked at Draco, who looked away.   
  
"A day. All right. I guess... a day. What should I... do?" asked Ron, looking around wildly.  
  
"We'll go to the Ministry and see about this," Harry said to Ron. He looked over at Draco whose gaze seem fixed on some indecipherable point in the distance. "Draco? A day? Will you give me that much?"  
  
Draco nodded, but Harry wasn't really foolish enough to believe it. "Your word, Draco. Give me your  _word_  you won't do anything until I've had a day."  
  
Looking right at him, Draco said sternly, "A day. And then I'm going to finish this."  
  
The words were ice in the pit of Harry's stomach. They sounded so final and determined-- like he'd sounded before he ended Voldemort. It filled him with dread and worry, but there was nothing for it. The clock was ticking. He could only pray that giving one's word meant the same thing to a Gryffindor as it did a Slytherin.   
  
After an awkward pause, Harry glanced to Ron who nodded and turned his back so Harry could kiss Draco deeply. He gazed into his eyes after the kiss, stroking Draco's soft cheek. "I'll be back. Wait for me."  
  
Draco's face was impassive and he said nothing. Harry prayed it meant agreement and slipped away to Floo to the Ministry. 


	12. Episode 12: Draco's Hero

Draco had promised that he would give Harry a day. A day. It sounded like entirely too long to just sit around and wait, and he had been quite careful not to agree to give his word, exactly. He'd more... implied that perhaps there was the possibility he would wait a day by repeating what Harry had said.   
  
It wasn't for lack of confidence in Harry, necessarily, but more that Draco didn't think Harry knew what he was up against. Antsy as he was about where Harry was and what he was doing, Draco was also exhausted from traipsing about the globe in borrowed clothes and landing in this dump. Sure, it was an ancestral Black dump, but a dump nevertheless. It looked like it had been stripped of most anything interestingly dark in it and after wandering aimlessly for a while, Draco took a steaming hot bath and hopped into bed.  
  
The next morning, Harry still wasn't back and Draco let his paranoia take hold. Harry Potter was Harry Potter and would theoretically not need Draco Malfoy's help, except that Harry was terribly clueless in all of this. He had no idea what Mifune and his people were truly capable of. He wished that kidnapping were the worst of it.   
  
Draco slipped out for takeaway and bought some clothes at a local store. He'd used charms to change his appearance, making his hair dark and his features rounder and less distinctive. He tried to pass the time peaceably, but his mind kept drawing back to the fact that Harry hadn't so much as sent an owl and the very real possibility that he might be in trouble.  
  
A day. He'd asked for a day.  
  
By evening, Draco had returned to Grimmauld with groceries and clothing necessities and a fear for the worst. A day. Morning until night. Day time was over and though Harry might technically have a couple more hours, Draco refused to wait any longer.   
  
Dressed casually in Muggle clothes after dropping the charms, Draco stepped out of Grimmauld Place, not even looking back to see how the house leapt from the street, disappearing in the crush of the other houses taking over the space. He held up his hand to examine his dragon ring. Stroking the spot on its snout, he watched its eyes slide closed as it tilted its head up, opening its jaws impossibly wide.  
  
Inside were two little red jewels. Originally, they had been the eyes of his dragon ring-- the jewelry a gift from Mifune. The little stones were designed to track and observe Draco. When he'd first made plans to escape, he'd had to figure out a way to remove them without removing them. Through a complex web of magic, he'd managed to enchant the dragon into eating its own eyes, keeping the tracking enchantments from working and blinding Mifune's observations without removing the jewels from the ring. To have kept the eyes intact would have been deadly.   
  
Now it was time for a meeting.   
  
It only took a few minutes before a sleek, black limousine pulled up to the curb in front of him. The door opened. After a quick look around, as if saying goodbye to his surroundings, Draco slipped into the vehicle.  
  
***  
  
The car was weaving its way through evening traffic. Draco was sitting with his back to the driver on the powder blue leather seats. He'd never quite liked the tin boxes Muggles rode around in-- even if he'd had to take them to King's Cross when he was younger. At least then they'd been controlled by magic and nothing so flawed as a Muggle. The feeling of moving backwards like this made him feel slightly nauseous and set him on edge; he had no doubt the seating arrangement was deliberate It was just one more petty discomfort to keep Draco anxious.   
  
Draco curled his hand into a fist and pressed his nails into the palm of his hand, concentrating on the pain rather than the vertigo. It helped a little.   
  
"I thought we might be hearing from you soon, Ryuu," said Mifune. He sat with the vampire Kyuzo next to him. They both looked supremely smug. Whatever hopes Draco had that perhaps Harry hadn't ended up taken vanished. He flexed his jaw, keeping his expression as stone-faced as he could.   
  
"You know my name is Draco. You can drop the Ryuu..." Draco gestured his belief in how silly it was to continue the charade. The name Mifune had given him back when Draco was young and dumb enough to believe that he had found somewhere to belong.   
  
"I like my pet name for you." Mifune laughed and Draco squeezed his nails into his palm harder.   
  
"I am not your pet."  
  
"But you would have been, wouldn't you have?" Mifune's smile was as cruel and genuine as it had ever been. It split his face in half, revealing pearly white teeth, so even, perfect.   
  
Fangs would've been a warning, Draco mused as he looked away, watching a car pull up with them. Children pressed their faces to the window, curious but unable to see past the window tinting of the limo.   
  
Draco thought about the first time he'd seen Mifune in London. In that alleyway where he was paying for sex, having sex. All that talk about celibacy for focus had been a lie. Either that or he wasn't taking his own advice. Then again, Draco had never been overly impressed with Mifune as a wizard. His skills lay in controlling people, leading, cunning, ambition. He'd reminded him so much of Lucius, it had been hard for Draco to see him for what he was.   
  
"But no more," said Mifune smoothly. "You have a new paramour, do you not? Britain's Wizarding Boy-Hero? I remember well the loathing for him and how it drove you. How fine a line between love and hate?"  
  
Draco opened his mouth to speak, but Mifune cut him off. "Don't even try. I saw the article. I know he saved your life. We both know too well how that so-called Sleeping Beauty hex works."  
  
Pressing his lips together, Draco glared outside as another car drove up-- red, with a young woman in glasses inside. She threw a couple of curious glances at the limo and then sped up to get ahead of them.   
  
"He's your true love." Mifune could've sounded mocking, he could've worded it as a question, but he did neither of those things, speaking instead with finality. A condemnation.   
  
If Draco didn't know better, he'd think Mifune sounded hurt.   
  
Mifune's wand tapped the windscreen and it lit up almost like a telly. Three figures were on the screen: Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley and his Harry. They appeared to be in blank space, lit by a few bulbs. Draco recognized it as a masking spell to keep him from being able to identify where they were located.   
  
"Mr Weasley?" Hermione's voice rang out tinny-like. She was tied to a chair. Harry was untying her and Ron was rubbing the back of his neck. "Why are you here? Do you know who those people were?"  
  
"We're here to get you out," said Ron. He looked over his shoulder at something that must've looked insurmountable. His expression reflected his thoughts; they were trapped.   
  
"But I thought you were a financier," said Hermione, looking terribly clueless as she rubbed her wrists.   
  
Harry crawled around her to untie her legs from the chair. As if he could sense he was being watched, Harry looked directly up at Draco. Draco's heart stopped. He reached out to touch Harry's face as the vision vanished.   
  
As much as Draco wanted to ask if Harry could see him, he knew he'd already given too much away as far as his feelings for Harry went. His fingers curled back to his palm as he pulled his hand away and glared at Mifune.   
  
"True love. How touching," said Mifune, leaning forward with a vicious expression, getting into Draco's personal space.  
  
Draco narrowed his eyes, not flinching. "At least he's capable."  
  
Briefly, Mifune looked stricken and then he sat back and laughed. Draco spared a glance to Kyuzo, who seemed to have actually become stone.   
  
"You know what I want,  _Draco_ ," said Mifune as he smoothed his hair back from his face.  
  
Mifune's face appeared more creased than he'd remembered. Stressed. There was something desperate about his manner that hadn't been there before. Then again, before, Mifune thought the world was coming to him. Draco just stared at him impassively.  
  
"Not even your own government would bid for you. The Aurors will not protect you and I have the only person who would try. Not that he could. Not from me. If you give me what I want, I'll make sure your death is quick." Mifune slid his hands over his face and when he pulled them away, the lines in his face had vanished. Charms.   
  
"I'm not sure how that's an incentive. Besides, I'm not even sure I could trust your word, even if I wanted to die," said Draco. He kept his eyes fixed on Mifune, watching for what effect his words might have on him.   
  
"You're the traitor," Mifune growled, his fingers digging into his own knees. The pant legs of his charcoal trousers wrinkled and gaped before they were released and the fabric smoothed out again. "I might've misrepresented a few things to you, but I never outright lied. If I thought I could trust you, I'd take you back in an instant. You were always my precious Ryuu."  
  
Those words had once filled Draco with such joy to hear. They made him feel valued and important. Now, they made his skin crawl. He let his disgust show on his face.  
  
"Of course. You have your true love now. I could offer you nothing. Nothing but a quick death for both of you," said Mifune nastily.  
  
Draco looked between the vampire and his once-mentor and boss. "It's under a heavy enchantment I can't end without him." He glanced at the window as if that would indicate Harry.  
  
The message was received. "Impossible."  
  
"Then you can kill me slowly and still not have it," said Draco simply. He shrugged and sat back against the seat. The leather grunted under his jeans. He splayed his arms out along the seat to indicate his resignation.   
  
"You'll run with him. The other two mean nothing to you," said Mifune.   
  
He must not have bought the gesture. Draco shrugged. "They mean nothing to me, but they're  _his_  best friends," said Draco. "He'd never forgive me if I just left them to die."  
  
Mifune looked at the window and then back at Draco, giving this consideration. Draco could see the wheels in his mind rolling, ticking off this information. He must've done his homework, because it appeared that he agreed with Draco's assessment.  
  
"Very well. I will have him brought to you. Kyuzo will accompany you. I could torture you for eternity if I were to let him turn you into a vampire," said Mifune, gesturing to his vampire before he pulled his wand again. "That would be a lot of suffering. Bear it in mind before you do anything foolish. Now, I have some arrangements to make. Tell me where he is to meet you."  
  
"Center of Leicester Square. Half-three," Draco answered.  
  
"Why that hour?" asked Mifune.  
  
"The fewer Muggles, the better."  
  
After another serious glare at Draco, there was a loud crack and Mifune Disapparated from the vehicle.   
  
Draco eyed the vampire up.  
  
"Your magic won't work on me, wizard. I'm a magical creature. I am beyond your reach," said Kyuzo, smiling smugly to himself.   
  
"I'm aware." Draco switched to sit where Mifune had been to ease his nausea but scooted closer to the window to get away from the unwelcome undead. Then he leaned his temple to the window and closed his eyes, pretending to sleep to avoid any further interview with the vampire.   
  
***  
  
Three-thirty in the morning at Leicester Square on a weeknight was sparse. The wind blew lightly through the trees and there was a low-hanging haze that muted the brightness of the streetlamps and gaudy signs from businesses around the square, including the giant Odeon sign. Draco always mentally corrected it to "Odious" because it was often packed with Muggles and their craptastic "movies."   
  
Even though there weren't loads of people about Draco put up a large circle of Muggle repelling charms around the statue of Shakespeare and then crossed his arms, waiting for Harry to arrive. Kyuzo had pretty much ignored everything that Draco was doing, instead keeping a distant look out for Muggles. Or a snack. It was hard to tell with vampires.   
  
He knew his charms were working when an official-looking Muggle started towards him with purpose, then stopped, checked his watch, and then faffed off in the opposite direction. Brilliant.  
  
Harry arrived a moment later with a pop. He looked harried and windblown, but as soon as he caught sight of Draco, he swept him up into his arms and clung tightly to him. Draco wasn't entirely used to the enthusiasm of emotion Harry often enjoyed, but he was glad of it now. He clutched him, smelling the unfamiliar scent of "somewhere else" on Harry, but Draco couldn't identify it. Mostly, though, he smelled like his Harry.   
  
"Shakespeare!" said Harry after they'd finished their embrace and Draco gestured to the statue.  
  
"Yes. He was a wizard, you know." Wizards, like some overbearing nationalities (like the Scottish), had a tendency to retroactively claim celebrities or Muggles that they appreciated the work of. In this case, however, Draco was correct. William Shakespeare had been a wizard; however, he was a Muggle-born.   
  
Harry rolled his eyes. "Of course he was." He reached out to caress Draco's cheek and Draco closed his eyes, relishing the attention. He ignored the annoying throat clearing from the vampire behind them.   
  
"Go on, get on with it," Kyuzo said. "I'm not here to watch you two have sex."  
  
Draco perked a brow and looked over at Kyuzo. "That's what you think."  
  
"There is no darkness but ignorance," Harry read, squinting at the statue of Shakespeare. He looked at Draco and then back at the statue and then to the vampire.   
  
He could tell that Harry wanted to ask him what he was doing here and guessed that he hadn't been briefed on anything. He'd have to deal with that eventually, but for now, he just needed to get the damned thing. "I liked the dolphins, too," said Draco.   
  
"We're here to get something?" asked Harry. Draco nodded in response. "Seems like the sort of egotistical place you'd put something."  
  
"What?" Draco looked at Harry, surprised that he'd think this was egotistical at all. Ignorance was darkness. Shakespeare lived amongst Muggles. And what was so fucking egotistical about  _dolphins_? Honestly, sometimes he had no idea where Harry got his ideas about him.   
  
Pulling his wand, Draco flourished it with grand precision and said, "Take me to the House of the Cheeky Monkey."  
  
"I'd love to if you'd--" Harry started. His voice broke off when he saw Shakespeare move from his leaning position against the pillar.  
  
First, Shakespeare stretched, wriggling his back. "By the great tits of Circe, that's a horrible position to stand in. Even with the books added... no good on your back!" His stone hand stroked his stone beard, giving off a low, scraping gravelly sound. "But, House of the Cheeky Monkey, of course!"  
  
Shakespeare knocked his stone cape from his stone hip and pulled out a stone wand. "The three of you?" asked the statue.   
  
Draco looked over his shoulder at the Kyuzo, who was staring in gaping amazement as much as Harry was. Draco smirked. This was rather clever magic. He wondered if he should have Shakespeare do a little jig for them, but really, they didn't have time for that. "Er. Yes, all three," said Draco.  
  
"Good on you, my boy. You'll have fun, then!" said Shakespeare.  
  
"It's not like..." started Draco, wondering why he was about to argue with his own magic. "Right. Just send us on, then."   
  
With a sensation that wasn't unlike the whirling of the Portkey, the three were sent face first down into Shakespeare's pedestal. It was, of course, made larger using Wizard space, looking much like a romantic boudoir with a large four-poster bed, ornately carved in swirls. On the bed was a large, silk duvet of silver and midnight blue that glinted in the light of a fireplace across from it.   
  
On the table in front of the fire was a bottle of perfectly-aged brandy and two snifters set between two wing backed chairs. It was quite cozy, with walls covered in frilly velvet wallpaper that reflected the pattern on the duvet.   
  
"Draco..." said Harry as he looked around at the room, stopping to sniff the white roses in full bloom on a table next to the bed. "What is this?"  
  
"The thing is," said Draco, trying to keep his back to Kyuzo so he wouldn't see him blushing. "When I set this up... I'd thought... if it ever came to this... if I ever had to retrieve this... I thought... perhaps I'd still be a virgin and that... I wouldn't want to die a virgin, and I figured if I had to retrieve this sword... that... well, that Mifune would kill me."  
  
"All right," said Harry as he looked around the room again. Draco could see the moment that Harry cottoned on to what that must mean. "Oh. OH! So... we have to..."  
  
"Yeah. To get the sword..." Draco looked over at the bed.  
  
"We're going to die? I won't let you die, Draco," said Harry, gazing at him sincerely.   
  
In that moment, Draco believed him. If anyone could protect him from Mifune, then it would be Harry. But Draco also knew that there was going to come a moment when Harry was going to ask why he didn't know about this, and he wasn't sure if Harry was going to like the answer. Once again Draco chided himself for not making sure that Harry knew everything. Maybe it would've made a difference. Maybe not.  
  
But in the next moment, he felt Harry's lips rich against his. So warm, welcoming, giving. Not that Draco had snogged loads of people, but he'd kissed a fair few, but with Harry he felt it down to his toes. Harry didn't just love someone in parts, he loved from his soul and it overwhelmed Draco, no matter what excuses they'd used to do it before.   
  
Sometimes it scared him, the way Harry's hands warmed him when he touched his skin, sliding under his shirt, pushing it over his head as he backed Draco against the bed. The silk was almost cold on his back and he longed for Harry to be on top of him, but Harry had stopped to pull his shirt off. Draco undid his jeans as he toed off his shoes, watching Harry strip down.   
  
This might be the last time they'd feel each other this way. Draco wasn't sure what he believed for the afterlife, but he knew if he was there with Harry, he'd be happy. He wished he'd been the sort of person to beg for Harry's life, that he'd been the sort of person who could've kept Harry out of this and just had sex with someone random, but he wasn't that person.   
  
Strong as he was in some ways, he'd come to feel dependent on Harry. He shuddered as Harry kissed his neck and traced his fingers down his spine, wanting to touch every part of his body, and listen to the soft sound of their skin brushing together all night. He reached down to slide his hand over the sensual softness of Harry's prick, rubbing it to full firmness as he kissed him deeply.  
  
Harry's hair brushed against his face, wiry and prickly, his scruff from beard growth burned his tender skin. This was what he wanted. He didn't know if he'd call it true love, even if that was what magic called it. To Draco it almost felt broken and strange to want something so desperately-- to want someone like this. It made his mind and tongue rebel, his independent nature contrary to his neediness.   
  
It made him bitter. Raw. Vulnerable. Scared.   
  
Harry found the lubricant on the nightstand next to the flowers. The room had been stilled exactly as Draco had left it when he'd hidden the sword in here. Everything was fresh and smelled of burning embers and roses. Now the room carried Harry's scent.   
  
Reaching down to his own prick, Draco pulled at himself as his other hand slipped into Harry's hair, tugging slightly as he felt Harry's finger corkscrewing into him, working in slow, twisting motions. Draco kept eye contact with him as much as he could, whimpering at the intrusion, knowing it would become more intense as Harry slid another finger into him. He felt stretched, opening as he relaxed his body, concentrating on how Harry would be part of him very soon.   
  
Draco closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the bed, pulling his legs up so that Harry could angle him up to enter him. Harry slid a pillow under his arse, keeping him tilted up. Draco brought his legs back, folding in half. He braced the backs of his knees to Harry's shoulders and waited for the first thrust, the pop of sensation as the head breeched him.   
  
His breath caught as he felt stretched wider around Harry. It always hurt just a little when he first entered him, reminding him of how large Harry was. With Harry's shoulders against the back of his legs, Draco was able to control the speed and the depth in which Harry penetrated him. He let him in slowly, inching his thrusts in deeper and deeper with each stroke.   
  
He loved the solid, full feeling of having Harry inside of him. He felt connected, part of Harry's body, an extension of him. In moments like this, he felt real, less broken, less like the stupid boy who managed to get in over his head twice and more like the confident Auror he played at being. Harry had almost always been the boy he had to overcome. The boy he had to defeat. If he could win against Harry, then he would have accomplished something. He would be something. Be someone.   
  
When Harry was inside of him, the competition melted away. Harry's victories were his. They were shared and Draco was finally part of something worth being a part of. He wasn't on the Ministry's side. He was on  _Harry's_  side. Somehow that made all of the difference in the world.   
  
Tugging Harry's hair to pull him up from their languid, sloppy kiss, Draco gazed into Harry's eyes. He'd said it before, but it had gotten lost in transport. Left in translation. Harry had never said a word about it and Draco wasn't sure he'd heard it. Whatever defenses he'd put up to protect himself from feeling, to protect himself from being disappointed, they all seemed trivial now.   
  
Draco had attempted to say it before, when he thought he was about to be taken to do this deed without Harry-- when he thought they were both going to die. Now he was sure they were going to die, but now they were making love and he might never get to say it if he didn't now.   
  
"Harry. I love you," he whispered.   
  
Immediately, Harry's eyes fluttered closed in spite of what looked like a Herculean effort to keep them open. His mouth gaped open and he looked like an angel like this. Somewhere along the line his glasses had dropped off, and his face was pinched, exultant, scar bright on his damp forehead. He grunted. He was coming. Draco felt the slicking inside of him, easing Harry's movements as he continued to drive deeply into him.   
  
He sped up his hand on his cock. Draco was going to come soon anyway; just knowing that Harry had come was enough to spark his own need.   
  
"I love you, Draco."   
  
Draco squinted his eyes open, trying to watch him as he came, but his body turned rigid and his back arched up off of the bed as he fisted himself, pulling, drawing up, body gathering, sparking and igniting as he twisted and came in a warm splatter against his own chest.   
  
He was panting for air when Harry kissed him sloppy and wet, sweat raining down on him. Draco stole Harry's breath. One leg slipped off of Harry's slippery shoulder and bounced on the mattress as Draco returned the kiss, holding the back of Harry's head as if he'd slip away.  
  
They'd said it. They'd both said it and the world hadn't ended. At least, not yet. Soon enough, it would. Their lives would end before that happened, but Draco couldn't have regrets about that. Not now. Not when Harry was holding him like this, warm tongue stroking his as his waning erection started to inch back out of him.  
  
The moment was perfect until the vampire cleared his throat. Mildly embarrassed that they'd done this with an audience, Draco opened his eyes to glare at Kyuzo, finding that Harry was doing the same thing. This was what it was like to be in synch with someone else. To be attuned to them. Draco didn't hate it.  
  
Reaching out, Draco concentrated on the sword and soon felt the cool metal in his hand, weighing it down. He let his arm flop against the bed as he broke the kiss. Harry gave the sword a questioning look and then looked back down at Draco in confusion.   
  
"So you have it. Let's get out of here. There's a car waiting for us at Leicester Square to take us to your friends." Kyuzo reached for the sword, but it sent out a shock when he touched it. He yanked his hand back and glowered at Draco.  
  
Draco smirked. "Doesn't go to anyone until I  _give_  it to them."  
  
Kyuzo glared.   
  
Dodging the inquiry in Harry's eyes, he wriggled out from under him after a quick, but tender kiss. "C'mon. We need to get Ron and Hermione," said Draco.  
  
Harry looked suspicious, but nodded and grabbed his clothes.  
  
***  
  
In the car, Draco clutched and released the handle of the sword. He didn't really  _have_  to hold onto it as he was, but it gave his hands something to do as he waited for Harry to ask the inevitable question. He could tell that Harry was working up to it. Draco was far too familiar with Harry's pantomime of huffy questioning and side-long glances of accusation. He always bottled up till he exploded. With any luck, by the time Harry worked up to it, they'd be in mortal peril and they could avoid the Uncomfortable Conversation.   
  
But Harry wouldn't or just couldn't leave things alone. It couldn't just be that Draco loved him. It couldn't just be that he loved Draco. Things had to be  _right_  and  _honest_  for his hero-Gryffindor-mind to wrap around it.   
  
"I thought you told me everything about your involvement," said Harry, finally breaking the five-minute silence of the ride that was taking them to lands unknown. Like the Knight Bus, this limo was running on magic and the world outside was blurred with motion. Draco had no idea where they were headed. He supposed it didn't matter.   
  
"I didn't tell you anything. I let you see it," said Draco, staring out the window. It made him ill to look, but he knew he couldn't face Harry's disappointed glare.   
  
Harry wasn't having it. He pulled Draco's face by the chin to look at him. Draco wanted to tell him it didn't matter, because it really didn't. Not now. He didn't want to fight when there might soon be no point to it. He didn't want to die in the midst of a row.   
  
"Draco," said Harry, his eyes focused, face stern-- the portrait of justified irritation and betrayal. "You didn't let me see everything."  
  
Licking his lips, Draco looked over Harry's features, measuring the expression and then shook his head. "There was no way I could've stopped you from seeing everything, Harry. You just saw what you wanted to see. You just wanted to know if I'd killed anyone. When you found out that I hadn't, you... you let it go."  
  
He looked stricken, his gaze averting as he took that news, reviewing what had happened. "You knew there was more to it, and you didn't tell me," said Harry, his voice wavering and weak as his face paled, realizing his mistake.  
  
Draco hoped Harry didn't think his mistake was in trusting him. He cupped the side of Harry's face. "I was hoping it wouldn't matter. That it wouldn't come to this. They were... the boxes... the... magic... they were searching for this. I didn't think you wanted to know. I didn't think you'd need to know. I didn't think there would be... realistically... any way Mifune could compel me to give this over to him. I did some things I'm not proud of to be part of this group but... taking this was... finally the right thing to do."  
  
Harry looked down at the old sword and back up at Draco, nonplussed by what Draco was saying. "Then why are you giving it back?"  
  
He would've laughed had anyone else asked, but coming from someone as pure and brave as Harry, it was a legitimate question. His eyes were wet with shame as he realized that Harry was right. He shouldn't have this here. He shouldn't have given it up. He should've fought to the death and let it be lost to the ages as everyone believed this sword to be already. Maybe it wouldn't have made a huge difference in the long run, given Mifune's prodigious Machiavellian mind, but it certainly wouldn't have made it easier.   
  
"I... I thought... maybe... he'd let you and your friends live if I did. Maybe he'd even... let me... stay with you," said Draco. This was why Harry was a hero and he was not. Harry would make the morally right call, even if it were a bit cold. Draco would do anything for those he loved.   
  
To Draco's surprise, instead of being chided, Harry took him into his arms and hugged him tightly. Draco clung back to him. He felt incredibly foolish like this. He was raw and vulnerable and his mind stretched for something snarky to say about the situation. Something quippy and biting about how Harry had turned him into a great girl's blouse and that their dying was clearly going to be his fault.   
  
He just couldn't make himself say any of it.   
  
"I won't let you die, Draco," Harry whispered. "I promised you that, and I won't."  
  
The car stopped and Draco began to tremble. If anyone could protect him, it would be Harry.  
  
***  
  
As they stepped out of the car, Draco scanned for wards against Apparition and was surprised to find there were none. Of course, Mifune was banking that Draco wouldn't come this far only to bail out now, which made sense.   
  
Before him was a large manor built of stone with a slightly more contemporary wood take on the front entryway meant to look Grecian, but fell short somewhere in the execution, leaving it looking rather out of place. Once they crossed the threshold into the out-dated foyer's parquet floor, Draco had the claustrophobic feeling of magic closing in on him. All right. Mifune  _wasn't_  taking chances. It was good to know they could get out if they needed to, anyway.   
  
Kyuzo had remained silent in the car and Draco had quite forgotten he was there at all. These things happened when you couldn't even hear someone breathe. He had the tendency to sit staring into space like a gargoyle anyway, which... actually reminded Draco sadly of Goyle, but he didn't have time to think about such things now.   
  
He and Harry followed the vampire through the disorienting mirrored entry and past the grand staircase into a large living area. Ron and Hermione were sitting on a long, striped couch that sat before an ornately carved and gilt coffee table. The room was gaudy with an attempt at reproduction Victorian charm-- the sort of place that might've impressed the uninitiated, but rankled Draco's sense of real opulence. But then, there'd always been something fake about Mifune. Draco had just chosen to ignore it early on.   
  
Now he was paying for ignoring his instincts.   
  
Mifune stood from where he was sitting on a lounger of an indescribably patterned chair in muted tones of green, pink and yellow. "Ry-- Mr Malfoy, perhaps would be better now," he said, pulling his wand rather than offering his hand to shake. "And Mr Potter. Good to finally meet you in person. I've heard so much about you."  
  
Harry stiffened and glared at Mifune. "I've heard nothing about you."  
  
Laughing, Mifune nodded. "I'm sure you've heard plenty by now. We have our little dragon in common."  
  
Draco twitched at the nickname, setting his jaw again.   
  
Ron and Hermione looked up at Harry and Draco from the couch. They were holding hands, but Hermione still looked wide-eyed and bewildered by the whole ordeal.   
  
"Let them leave," said Draco, gesturing to them. "That was the deal."  
  
"You do realize that even if I let them walk out of here, that you will be dead and gone and there will be no way for you to protect them from me," said Mifune, grinning maliciously.   
  
Harry looked at Draco for a moment, then down at the sword. Then he looked at Ron and Hermione, probably weighing what he'd do in the situation. "Let them leave. Ron can sort himself out when he's a wand to defend himself."  
  
"Wait," said Ron, hopping up, leaving Hermione seated. "No one's getting killed. You want to kill them; you have to go through me."  
  
Mifune raised his wand and Draco reached around Ron, holding the sword up in front of Ron's chest. "You strike him down; you have nothing to bargain with. Let him go," said Draco.  
  
"Ron, you have to get Hermione out of here," said Harry, his tone pleading slightly. "She doesn't know what's going on."  
  
"Hogwarts?" asked Hermione, her brows furrowing. "What's Hogwarts? It seems like there was a school and I've... known all of you."  
  
Harry and Ron exchanged looks before looking down at Hermione. Draco pulled the sword away from Ron so Ron could move to Hermione. Mifune waved his wand, trying to get everyone's attention back, since he was the bad guy with the life-threatening instrument, but no one seemed that interested.   
  
"Yes. You went to school at Hogwarts," said Ron, taking her hand as he knelt down in front of her. He took one of her hands in his and he scanned her eyes. "We were your best fiends. You and I..."  
  
"Canaries. I set canaries after you!" said Hermione.   
  
Ron laughed and nodded, his face brightening and reddening. "Yeah. You did. I was... an idiot."  
  
"But how did I do that?" asked Hermione.  
  
"Get out," said Mifune, pointing his wand at Ron and Hermione.   
  
"What?" asked Ron as he stood, pulling Hermione up with him. He tucked her behind him, protecting her bodily from what Mifune might do.  
  
"Just get out. You're both too distracting," said Mifune, shooing them. "Go on. Go! Kyuzo, show them out!"  
  
Ron and Hermione started to back out of the room.   
  
Mifune waved them on. "Go! Get out! I have business to do. Reunite somewhere else!"  
  
"St. Mungo's, Harry!" Ron shouted as he grabbed Hermione and started at a run to get ahead of Kyuzo. Harry nodded back to them.  
  
"Don't go too far, Kyuzo. I need you back in here," said Mifune, starting to calm down.   
  
Harry and Draco stood in the middle of it all; looking back and forth between everyone speaking like it was a tennis match.   
  
"But I'm  _hungry_ ," Kyuzo whined.   
  
"You can eat one of these," said Mifune.   
  
"That's not what..." Draco started.  
  
"I said quick. It's... in a relative sense, a quick way to die. Now," said Mifune as he pointed his wand at Harry. "Do you want to see how he sounds under the Cruciatus Curse, or do you want to give me that sword?"  
  
Harry shook his head at Draco, making it plain he didn't want him to give it over. Draco couldn't watch Harry in pain, though and he had no doubts that Mifune would make good on his threat to end him if he didn't hand the sword over.   
  
Draco assumed that Harry didn't have his wand; he couldn't imagine Mifune being that clumsy. Draco had his, but as he could do much of his magic without the aid of a wand, there didn't seem much point in disarming him. Plus, he'd needed it to acquire the sword in the first place. Now, as he held the sword up, he slipped his hand into his pocket, gripping his wand.   
  
With any luck-- and Harry often had the best kind of luck-- they wouldn't die. With Draco's luck, it was going to end in Greek tragedy. But he couldn't think about that, not now. Mifune was pressing his wand against Harry's throat and Harry looked increasingly desperate to tell Draco not to do this.   
  
"Mr Mifune, I am giving you this sword. Take it," he said, feeling the shiver of magic travel down his arm. It made the old, rusted sword vibrate creating a low, gentle hum.   
  
"Oh, Draco," said Harry.  
  
"Head's up," said Draco as he tossed the wand to Harry as Mifune reached for the sword.   
  
Harry caught the wand, but not before Mifune could fire off, " _Crucio_!" Harry flopped to the floor, writhing in agony as Mifune called Kyuzo in to grab Draco.  
  
Sword still in his hand, Draco took it up and whirled around, slicing the dull blade through the vampire's neck. It spat out a quick gush of blood against the cream-colored wall in a dramatic spray. The severed head flew back from the force of the blow, thudding against the wall before rolling off towards the entryway.   
  
Kyuzo's body slumped and fell to the ground, smelling of rot and old death. His grey suit turned dark at the collar and soon a small pool of thick, black cold blood oozed out of him, dribbling onto the parquet.   
  
Draco wheeled around as he heard the Cruciatus Curse end so that Mifune could hex him. He swung the sword at Mifune's outstretched arm as he wound up to kill Draco.   
  
" _Ava..._ ," Mifune started.   
  
In one clean swipe, Draco clipped Mifune's arm in the middle of his forearm, sending his wand skittering off with Mifune's hand still clutching it. While Draco was off-balance, Mifune lunged at Draco, knocking him back so that he tripped over the fallen vampire. His head bounced on the floor and Draco felt a rush of pain and his vision clouded. He tried to keep his grip on his sword, but even against a one-armed bleeding man, he was too disoriented to keep it from him.   
  
Mifune had the sword. He was pale from rapid blood loss and it was evident he was in no position to strike the killing blow. Draco saw Harry getting up from the corner of the room. Mifune must've sensed this shift as well, as he tucked the sword under his good arm and fled for the door.   
  
"Are you all right?" Harry shouted to Draco as he chased after Mifune. He fired off a couple of hexes that skittered through the house, disrupting plaster and sending pictures from the walls to crash and clatter on the floor.   
  
"No. I'm not," said Draco as he tried to pull himself up. He sat up on Kyuzo's back and rubbed the back of his head where a knot was forming. He saw Mifune clear the door and vanish with a loud crack.   
  
Harry tried to send a tracer spell, but it wasn't his wand and it didn't take. "Fuck!"  
  
"Shit," Draco confirmed, in case Harry had any question about his fuck.   
  
"Twatwaffles!" said Harry as he came back into the house. He handed Draco his wand back so Draco could see about repairing damage. Harry stretched, rubbing parts of his body that had to feel broken and sore from the curse.   
  
"Dung diddlers, the lot of 'em," said Draco as he did a spot heal on the back of his head and a general relaxation charm on Harry, hoping that would help soothe him.   
  
"Now what?" asked Harry. "What does that sword do? What did we just...?"  
  
Draco took Harry's offered hand to stand up and peered around the room. Dead vampire. He didn't have time to deal with that now. Someone else's problem. "Let's get back to the Order of the Dragon. Then I'll tell you everything."  
  
Harry didn't look thrilled with that idea. In fact, he looked rather keen to give chase now that his adrenaline was up, but now was not the time for that. Right now, Draco needed to take him home, find him a new wand, and tell him how he'd just screwed over the world as they knew it. Everything was going to change now, starting with Japan. 


	13. Episode 13: (Ninjas Implied)

"Do you have to do that  _now_?" Harry was exasperated with Draco and St. Mungo's and the entire situation.  
  
Hermione's memories seemed to be returning in ebbs and flows and it sent Ron into fits each time she recalled something that had to do with her worries for Harry. As far as Harry ever recalled, she never had feelings for him. In fact, he thought fourth year pretty much defined the complete lack of sexual tension between them, but Ron appeared to have other ideas now.   
  
The entire scene made Harry highly uncomfortable, and his would-be boyfriend-cum-partner was ignoring everything going on in favor of fussing about with a small mirror decorated with silver snakes that slithered in circles around the back. Each time Harry looked over at Draco in the corner, he was smiling and cooing into the mirror, shaking his hair back and batting his lashes.   
  
Sometimes Draco was just plain  _weird_. Harry didn't have time for it.   
  
"Oh! And we flew together on a hippogriff!" said Hermione, her face bright and glowing with retrieved memory.   
  
Ron glared at Harry.  
  
"Yes, yes we did," said Harry wearily. He pulled his glasses off and mashed the heel of his palm into his eyes.   
  
"I'm sorry, you weren't there for that," Hermione said. She at least had the good sense to seem sad for it. "I'm sure I'll remember more about you than you snogging another girl and having the emotional depth of a spoon."  
  
There was no way Harry was going to look up to see Ron's reaction to that. Instead, he looked over at Draco, incredulous with his utter prattish ambivalence. Harry thought now that they'd exchanged loving sentiments that things would change. Maybe not constant blowjobs till he had water wrinkles on his prick, but at least that he'd hold his hand in this time of emotional strife.   
  
Furthermore, it was making him quite uncomfortable that they'd been in the same place for so long. While Draco had declared the room at St. Mungo's temporary headquarters for the Order of the Dragon to invoke the Fidelius Charm so that they wouldn't be found, Harry was a little edgy about how well-worded their spell work might've been. Besides, he really wanted to get out of this personal pressure-cooker and sink his teeth into a real world-saving situation.  
  
Draco still hadn't bothered to tell him the significance of the sword. Instead, he seemed quite bent on spending his last remaining moments with his own reflection. Narcissist.   
  
"Wait, didn't you almost kill that man in the corner?" Hermione asked Harry.   
  
Ron exhaled irritably.  
  
Draco looked up from his mirror, squinted and said, "Tonks wants in."  
  
Harry really wanted to say something snarky and rude about Sectumsempra and Draco's vanity overriding the world ending, but he wasn't witty enough for it to come together. Especially given that as preoccupied as Draco was, he was the only one to notice Tonks walking blindly up and down the hallway, likely looking for, and not finding, Hermione's room.  
  
At least it was something to do.   
  
Crossing the room, careful to avoid Hermione or Ron's gaze, Harry poked his head out to greet Tonks. "The Order of the Dragon headquarters is Recovery Room D, St. Mungo's Hospital, London, England," he informed her. Right about then he started to wonder if it was such a good idea to have this here. Hermione could be missing out on potions she'd need.   
  
"Wotcher, Harry!" said Tonks. Trailing behind her with a pot of very squirmy Dancing Daisies was Luna Lovegood, dressed in what was now her usual fashion of a quilted robe and ribbons in her hair.   
  
Luna shoved the flower pot into Harry's face and said, "They're very cheery flowers, aren't they?"  
  
The soft petals caressed Harry's face, and though his first reaction was to draw back, he had to admit that the flowers were very cheery and that it was nice to see her and giddy flora, even if it was a little random.   
  
He informed her of the location of the Order of the Dragon, and the women entered the room.  
  
Behind Harry, Draco snapped the compact mirror shut and he heard the ragged squeal of the chair sliding over tile.   
  
"It's getting a bit crowded in here, and it's time for us to go, Potter," Draco announced.  
  
A rebellious urge made Harry want to argue with Draco that just because Draco was done gazing at himself didn't mean that he was ready to go, at least until Hermione said, "You were such a brilliant Quidditch player, Harry! I remember watching you fly. Wasn't there a song about Ron?"  
  
"Yes, you should go," Ron snarled.   
  
When Harry turned around, he found Ron glowering and Draco completely unconcerned with the goings on in the room.   
  
"This is no longer the headquarters of the Order of the Dragon," Draco announced as he pocketed his mirror and took Harry by the arm.   
  
"Oh Harry, you simply must come back. I want you to meet my husband!" said Hermione, reaching towards him from the bed.   
  
"I'm sure Ron would like to know more about your family, too," said Tonks. Her hair was some muddy color between brown and pink and Harry wondered exactly what that meant. Luna was staring out of the window at the fake field of flowers outside.   
  
"Bye Harry, Malfoy," said Luna dreamily. "Say hullo to Theo for me."  
  
"What? Who?" asked Harry as Draco rushed him out of the room. He caught a strange look on Draco's face before his expression returned to inscrutability. "Um, bye everyone!" Harry called over his shoulder. "I'll be back. I hope."  
  
Before anyone had a chance to answer, Draco had shut the door to Hermione's room and dragged Harry to the lift.   
  
\--  
  
As it turned out, Luna's uncanny intuition panned out, as Draco informed him that they were headed to visit with his childhood chum and dorm mate Theodore Nott. Not that Draco informed Harry of that fact. Draco said precious little more than he absolutely had to in order to keep Harry moving with him.   
  
Before the war had ended, Theodore Nott had turned Ministry informant and spy and now made a more-than-comfortable living trading in secrets and other shady business. His location was considered an absolute secret and the only way to get to him was via a Portkey which he'd had set up and placed outside of St. Mungo's.   
  
"So... that was an enchanted mirror?" Harry asked as they stood in a great and empty ball room. There were huge portraits hanging from the antique yellow walls, all of eerie Thestrals frolicking. Harry found it creepy. "Back at St. Mungo's?"  
  
"Yes. What, did you think I was just sitting there talking to myself?" Draco peered around the hall till he caught sight of the door and headed towards it.  
  
"No, of course not. That would be... erm... silly."   
  
Draco smirked over his shoulder at Harry as he took hold of the door. He paused and leaned in to press a quick kiss to Harry's lips. "Look, um. I should warn you... Nott has... had... certain ideas about my relationship with him. It's really not to our benefit to disillusion him, if you know what I mean."  
  
As much as Harry appreciated the reassuring kiss, Draco's words filled him with a sense of foreboding. "No, I don't know what you mean. What ideas does he have? Do you  _have_  a relationship with him?"  
  
Brilliant. Kirley Duke was out of the picture and now Harry had to find that Draco had yet another boyfriend?  
  
"Of course I have some sort of relationship with him. He just amuses himself that it's more than it's ever been. We need his help here, Pot-- Harry." Draco took Harry's hand and squeezed it.  
  
The ploy made Harry wince. Draco must be really desperate to try and lay it on so thick with him, not that it impressed Harry much. "You're not touching him."  
  
"No, I'm not touching him," Draco reassured him, caressing Harry's cheek.   
  
"All right." Harry kissed him again, trying to gird himself for what was likely to come.   
  
"Elephant shoe," said Draco after he broke the kiss, his lips still wet from Harry's mouth.  
  
"Olive juice," Harry responded, smiling sweetly.  
  
After a beat, Draco turned and opened the door to find Theo waiting for them.   
  
"Draco!" Theo enthused, rushing forward to grab him up in his arms.  
  
Theo was tall, still a bit weedy, but larger than Harry and Draco. His dark hair was cropped short on the sides, but floppy on top and tousled restlessly as he scooped Draco from the floor and spun him around. So much for not touching.   
  
"You brought your friend," said Theo after dropping Draco back to the floor. If Harry hadn't known better, he'd think that Theo was eyeing him up, but surely not.   
  
That said, Draco didn't seem to know much better himself, as he took to glowering at Theo until Theo turned back to him. "Yes, I brought Harry with me. I said I would."  
  
"Quite." Theo didn't seem thrilled, but then, he seemed the sort of bloke who hid behind manners in order to play things close to the vest. He wasn't giving much away, and yet somehow, his attraction to Draco was all but palpable. He gave Harry the sort of look that made him feel as if he most definitely was a rabbit who had climbed into a snake's den.  
  
Then he smiled with a quiet gentility and gestured for them to follow him.  
  
The room in which he settled them down was decorated in the fine style that Harry had come to associate with dark wizards. However, instead of being obsessed with snakes, the Nott family had a definite Thestral motif. He wondered if perhaps the Nott family had Muggles killed in front of their progeny so they could see these Thestrals. It was a horrible thought, but as Harry scanned painting after painting of Thestrals frolicking, often with young maidens, sometimes with young men, he couldn't help but think perhaps this was just another manifestation of the casual cruelty of the hard-line, old school pure-bloods.  
  
At once they sat down in the plush, squishy brown chairs that encircled a lavish coffee table. The legs were ornately carved Thestrals yet again, all in dark wood but for the haunting white eyes that were made of opal. Absently, Harry thought about how many believed that opals were bad luck, but then he'd be hard pressed to think of someone who thought Thestrals were omens for good.   
  
"So," Theo started, once they were settled in with cups of tea. Draco's was white, as he was ever the sweet tooth. He'd settled into a chair near Harry and kept shooting looks at him that Harry found difficult to interpret. "You've come to me for information."  
  
Draco nodded before taking a sip of his tea. Harry had accepted the tea, but thought better of drinking anything handed to him. He didn't trust Nott, but Draco obviously did. Then again, Draco had the advantage of having known him probably since birth. Harry had no such advantage and thus simply pressed his lips to the cup, but did not drink.  
  
"Well, Mifune's location was difficult to ascertain until you told me what he had, Draco. That was quite an artifact. I looked it up. It's hard to believe you would've let such a thing out of your collection. All historical records call that sword destroyed in the eleventh century." Theo drank his tea calmly, his brown eyes were exposed just over the rim, but his attention was full on Draco, seeming to search for a reaction.  
  
"Yes, I can't speak to how it was discovered. I surmised that one of the warriors at the Battle of Dannoura managed to pluck it away from its rightful owner, stowing it away for a properly advantageous time in which to pull it back into the world, only to meet a tragic end. Or perhaps he died before it was discovered the sacred sword still existed. I was never able to learn how it was found; only that it was in Mifune's possession." Draco appeared quite serious, but Harry was completely lost. Eleventh century? A battle Harry had never heard of?   
  
Harry wasn't exactly a student of Japanese history, so he was having a difficult time sorting out why the sword was particularly significant. "Is it a magical sword?" he asked Draco.  
  
Theo snorted and rolled his eyes. The action made Harry want to punch him in the face.   
  
Draco was neutral, giving Harry an impassive stare before answering. "You could say that. It's a Muggle sword in reality, but the Muggles have attributed it as an object of the divine." After taking a sip of tea, Draco set his cup and saucer down, turning his full attention to Harry.   
  
"Like England, Japan has its own ruler, an emperor named Akihito. Also like England, the emperor of Japan's position is mostly ceremonial. After the Muggle's second world war, around the mid-1940s, the emperor of Japan was forced to renounce his divinity, thus leaving Japan to be ruled by the ruling power of Japan-- which was instituted by the Muggle Allies."  
  
Harry was listening carefully, and while he understood there was a sword and an emperor who didn't serve any real purpose, he wasn't sure how this sword could really change anything. "All right. So... Mifune has this sword? He's going to become very wealthy?"  
  
Theo snorted and rolled his eyes.   
  
"He could do that, yes," said Draco gently. He shot Theo a look and Theo returned to his observant quietude. "But what happened was that one day while meditating on my own, I decided to consult Mifune's Mandala, and after a few hours of staring at it, I found what it was that he was concentrating on-- his eagerness for power.  
  
"For him, the Yakuza was not enough. He wanted to rule all of Japan, and then take over the world. I know you've heard this notion before, so it is not entirely alien to you. But the idea was-- as far as I could tell-- for Mifune to have this divine sword and to use it, and his ownership would enable him to claim divine right to the Japanese throne."  
  
"But it's just a sword!" Harry said, his hands up as if that could stop what was going on. He didn't quite understand how ownership of a sword would grant someone ruling power, but then, there were some symbols so powerful in a society that it spoke to everyone in the country.   
  
"Yes, well, it was just a locket until a soul was put into it. Objects are always just objects until someone values them. The truth is, there is an extremely conservative faction in Japan who was never happy with the emperor being rendered toothless and felt that the surrendering of their government to Allied forces was unfair," said Draco.  
  
"But that was almost fifty years ago!" Harry protested. He wanted to stand up and pace, but Theo was watching him far too closely for him to feel comfortable with extraneous movement.  
  
Draco shrugged. "It doesn't matter if it makes sense to  _us_. It's the Muggles in Japan that this all matters to. That is why we have to get the sword back."  
  
"And you will get it back," Theo assured him. "Mifune has a meeting with Akihito tomorrow afternoon. Until then, he's cooped up in the Japanese Ministry."  
  
"But... I don't understand what Japan has to do with us. Shouldn't we trust the Japanese people to handle themselves?" asked Harry. He really wanted tea now, but he'd be damned if he drank that prat's tea, poisoned or not. Now it was a matter of principle.  
  
"He's already trying to install leadership in London. Why do you think he's been mucking about with that paper-pushing Weasley? Because he likes redheads?" Draco snapped.  
  
Theo snickered and smiled fondly at Draco.  
  
Harry wanted to rip that smug smile off of Theo's face. He really wanted to smack Draco for being so placating, and most of all, he wanted to stuff Percy's arse with something large and explosive for being such a misguided twatswatter about how he was being used. Not that this was new, but Harry always relished a new reason to smack Percy down.   
  
"Fine, so he wants Percy to run London so he controls the interests here," said Harry, sighing. "What do we do about it?"  
  
"That's where I come in," said Theo, his smile dastardly. If he had one of those long mustaches, Harry fancied he'd be twirling it about now, ready to let his devious plan unfold. "But my services will cost you."  
  
\--  
  
"No," said Harry. He glared at Theo and then at Draco for even allowing someone to suggest it.   
  
Draco looked satisfyingly uncomfortable with the suggestion, but he didn't look like he was going to scream with righteous anger at the notion, either. "But we need to get the sword, Harry. It might be our last chance."  
  
"I said, no," Harry repeated.   
  
They were in Theo's communications room, which was actually a converted torture room in the dungeons of the Nott estate. Most of the more devious and threatening inventions were hanging up and slightly dusty on the wall. All around them were whirring and twinkling, sometimes chiming little machines, some of which printed runes on tickertape, keeping someone informed of... something. Harry had always been crap at runes. He decided it must be some sort of magical stock market ticker.   
  
Theo was standing behind what looked like an enormous blue glass globe. He was wearing metallic goggles with dark lenses. One of the lenses telescoped forward from his face, making him appear like a lopsided bug. The goggles pushed up his hair and he had the distinct air of a dotty scientist. He spoke into what looked like a small gold straw that ended right in front of his mouth. The language he spoke was indecipherable to Harry, but Draco was nodding along with it as if he understood.  
  
Probably Japanese.  
  
Harry was irritated to be the only man in the room who didn't speak Japanese. He was irritated that Draco was willing to whore himself out to Theodore Nott over a sodding sword. Granted, it seemed like it was an important sword that would change the destiny of Japan and possibly the world, but Harry didn't see why the fate of the world should rest on his maybe, sort-of, possibly his boyfriend Draco's arse.  
  
Draco probably loved the idea that a single shag from him and things would be solved. Well, not solved. They would still have to do... something. That's what Theo was chattering about to whomever who was... wherever... that he was talking to. Making arrangements. Theo paused in speech, catching Harry glaring at him. He looked to Draco, a brow up as if asking him if he was going to be able to handle this. Draco nodded to him and shot Harry a look to make him stop.  
  
"I said..." Harry started.  
  
Crossing to him, Draco slipped his arms around Harry. "I know what you said, Harry. But let's allow Theo to do his thing and then we'll negotiate. Once the arrangements are made, we'll be in better shape for bargaining. Besides, you might like watching."  
  
Harry was going to boil over with anger. "Watching? I am not watching someone else fuck you. If anyone's fucking you, it's me!" He heard a crash somewhere behind him. Something broke. Harry had felt the magic leave him. He'd broken it. "My bad!"   
  
He leaned in to whisper to Draco, "And it's going to get worse if you don't sort this out. I'll blow up this whole fucking room if you don't..."  
  
"Gentlemen," said Theo. His goggles were off, but still left red imprints on his face. His hair was also a bit wild, dark and sticking up in odd places. "I don't think any rooms need to be blown up. I'm a reasonable business man."  
  
He slipped an arm around each of them and wedged himself between them, his slender body a good way to do so. "Now, as I'm sure that you know, Mr Potter, our dear Draco came to you a virgin; which means that I lived with him for six long years, watching his body grow and develop without getting to touch him even once. Do you think that's fair?"  
  
"I'm not sure how fair..." Harry started. He looked at Draco who appeared about ready to explode from his blush.   
  
"Of course it isn't fair. He leaves off sixth year just telling us to stay snug in our beds and that's it. I think he's dead, but he's not dead, he's just in Japan, hooking up with a good crew, decent enough, until he's in trouble," said Theo. He smiled fondly at Draco, his eyes going a bit dazed as schoolboy's eyes are wont to do when the object of their affection is so near. "So he contacts me and I bring him back here, fiddle his paperwork and he's off to meet up with you. And that Duke fellow. I didn't even get a kiss!"  
  
"I kissed you!" Draco protested. He cleared his throat when Harry reached around Theo to grab his shoulder, squeezing a little hard to show he didn't want to hear this. "Not with tongue..."  
  
"Right, a continental kiss. The sort of kiss you'd give an aunt. Then... I find out you two are off on cases doing who knows what? And then... then I hear you're in Japan again and I have to send pirates after you in desperation. But then, of course, they want more money and... Well, that turned into quite a mess," said Theo. He pushed Harry back, trying to keep him from touching Draco.  
  
"You sent Lockhart?" asked Harry, sliding around to get on the other side of Draco. He wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him closer. "You sent Lockhart to rescue us?"  
  
"I was desperate! I had to get you two out of the Ministry. They had horrid plans for you. I'm always looking out for our little Draco."  
  
"Aww, Theo," said Draco, he squeezed Theo and leaned in to kiss his cheek but Harry yanked him back.   
  
"Aww? This is not an 'aww' moment! This is a, 'stop following me around you psychotic stalker' moment!" said Harry. He tried to squeeze between Draco and Theo, not at all liking the expression on Theo's face.   
  
Draco looked at Harry in mild annoyance, which set Harry off further. He whirled around and grabbed Draco, cupping his hands to either side of his cheek and kissed him passionately, wanting to give him the sort of kiss he would never forget, the sort of whirlwind kiss that nothing would ever, ever compare to.   
  
Theo was reaching around him to undress Draco and Harry slapped at his hands, but couldn't protest the reveal of more of Draco's skin as his clothes came undone. His shirt fell to the floor followed by his trousers. All around him the magic whirled. The room was cold and Draco's skin goose fleshed as Harry lowered him onto the floor in the center of it all. Distantly, Harry heard the swish of clothes as Theo disrobed, but Harry wouldn't let him have him. There was no way that he'd let him touch his Draco.   
  
Harry kissed Draco again, letting him pull his shirt off as he reached between them to undo his trousers. "You can... watch," said Harry. They couldn't do much about that anyway, and he was pretty sure that if he didn't get inside of Draco right now, his jealousy would explode, making the room shatter in shards of glass and twinkling small shiny parts on machines he didn't understand.  
  
The floor was made of black slate, but there was a small carpet in the middle of it. Harry kissed slowly over Draco's body, watching Theo peripherally. He was tossing off eagerly, but keeping his eye on what Harry was doing.   
  
Harry pulled one of Draco's nipples into his mouth, sucking it almost roughly, trying to block out the invasion of this other person. Another Slytherin. He didn't want to think about it, he couldn't think about it. He wanted him out of here. This was not like the myriad of times they'd ended up fucking in front of others-- Theo wanted to be him, wanted to do these things to Draco in place of him.   
  
He was driven to show him that what he could do for Draco no one else could. Spreading Draco's legs, Harry kissed up the inside of his thigh, sucking lightly on the crux of thigh and pubis. He turned his head to the side, rubbing his nose against the base of his cock. Then he dropped his head low enough to tenderly suck one and then two of Draco's balls into his mouth. He grabbed Draco's prick and started to pull him, slowly twisting his hand so that the skin slid over the firmness of his shaft.   
  
Lowering his head further, Harry pushed Draco's legs up and flicked his tongue out over the little hole. It was tight and wrinkled, almost angry looking, although maybe that was just what Harry thought.   
  
He coaxed the band of muscles to relax more and more as he lapped lightly over the ridges of the closure. He swiped the flat of his tongue over it sensually a few times, then pointed his tongue to roll along the outside. Then he wedged inside slightly, rolling his tongue over that wrinkled skin, coaxing him open slowly, teasingly. He flicked his tongue into him and then pulled it out to slide around the rim again.   
  
As he pulled his cock, he continued this slow tongue fucking. He heard Theo get closer, a brush of hand on his thigh as Theo reached for Harry's cock. Harry swatted his hand away and crawled up Draco's body. He rested on one elbow as he eased two fingers inside of Draco, gazing down at him adoringly. Theo was like an annoying tossing gnat prancing around them.   
  
"I want to come in his hair. At least let me come in his hair," Theo begged, resting on his knees just above Draco.   
  
Harry furrowed his brows, but Draco nodded slowly, his eyes fluttering shut as Harry curled his fingers, knowing just where that spot was and how to hit it. As little as Harry wanted Theo to come anywhere on his Draco, he decided that was reasonable enough. Theo pulled faster and harder on himself as Draco arched his back, crying out at the pleasure of Harry's fingers poking his prostate.   
  
He whimpered again when Harry drew his fingers out and then spit on his hand and rubbed it over his cock. He lined himself up with him and slowly drove into him. He was careful to keep his focus on Draco beneath him, the way his wild hair fluttered over the dark carpet in the cold room.   
  
Draco felt so luxuriant and warm, even on the inside. He was a little dry since he hadn't used actual lube, but it seemed to make everything feel more intense, more monumental in some way.   
  
Folding his legs up, Harry angled Draco so that he could hit that spot hard and repeatedly. Draco was already jerking himself off, his eyes closed and head turned. His face was flushed and he puffed for air. Harry knew this wouldn't take either of them long. They had it down to a science, almost. Harry loved the way their bodies sounded together, loved Draco's grunts with each time he took him, the way he begged for Harry to do it harder and the noises he made when he complied.   
  
Harry grabbed Draco's wrists, holding them down on either side of his face as he took him, violated him, claimed him as his in front of another man-- a man they both knew was desperate for Draco.  
  
Even as Theo's purpled prick dribbled pearly come into Draco's white hair, they all knew who Draco belonged to. Who he'd always belong to. He was  _Harry's_  and that was just all there was to it.  
  
"Mine," Harry growled as he felt the tremble in Draco's body that happened just before he came. Harry fucked him deeper, shifting his hips so that he would get that final spot that pushed Draco over the edge. Then they were both coming-- Draco's hole sloppy with it, pushing it back out as Harry pumped into him. Draco's come decorated his abdomen nearly to his nipple.   
  
He panted for air after letting out a long stream of expletives and then gazed groggily at Harry. "Mmm... yours."  
  
Theo was quiet for a long while. He still sat behind Draco, knees lined up just over his head. He was stroking his flaccid cock with one hand and rubbing his come into Draco's hair with the other. Obviously, he still held great affection for Draco, even if he'd just watched another man fuck him. Before Harry could stop it, Theo ducked down to steal a slow kiss from Draco.   
  
Harry wanted to hit him, but Draco pressed a hand to his chest and shook his head.   
  
Theo looked dreamy, he even sounded dreamy when he said, "Well, now we should find you your ninja outfits."  
  
\--  
  
The Kokyo, or Imperial Palace, of Japan was all but impenetrable by wizards and Muggles alike. Aside from tours that had very restricted routes, the palace would've been impossible to get into but for Theo's connections. The Japanese version of Aurors were ninjas, and they were allowed into the palace as guards to observe and protect the Emperor. Because they were ninjas, no one ever really knew exactly how many were inside the palace at any given time, meaning that Harry and Draco would need to hide from them as well as the Muggle security that had no idea that ninjas were allowed in the palace.  
  
The mission would be difficult, but Draco seemed to have confidence they could do it. Theo had chirped that Draco could do anything he set his mind to, and took take entirely too long tying Draco's obi. Harry was pretty sure that Draco was being frotted, but Draco showed no signs of alarm at being molested.   
  
As angry as Harry wanted to be at Draco, the way he kept staring at him with his grey eyes wide and amazed peering out from the layers of black fabric otherwise obscuring his face, that anger was difficult to maintain. Plus, Draco kept reaching out to grab his arse. Harry only pretended to be annoyed with this as they were armed with wands, a magical map of the Imperial Palace that showed the precise location of the emperor, and an inappropriate kiss that Theo landed on Draco's lips that Harry was pretty sure involved tongue.   
  
After that, Draco and Harry passed through a system of Portkeys designed to confuse anyone trying to track their magical signals. At each new location, Harry took a deep breath as he looked down at a table with a shoe or a snow globe and, oddly enough at one stop, a rubber duck, until they arrived at the Japanese Ministry.   
  
There, they were met by a sober-looking Ministry worker, who appeared to just be "doing his duty" who directed them to a side room where a final Portkey sat: a miniature replica of the Imperial Palace. It was presumably the way all of the ninjas got into the palace, so they knew once they got there, they had to move fast.  
  
In seconds, they were in an alcove near the main hall. They heard a tour group headed the other direction as they quietly padded through the stark, long halls of the Kokyo, moving from shadow to shadow hidden behind what Harry hoped was a strong enough Disillusionment Charm. He was pretty sure that wasn't exactly how the ninjas did it, but they hardly had time for training. Just like Harry really didn't have time to properly tell Draco off for being a whore.   
  
Not that he'd been a whore for anyone but him, but Harry was still rather convinced that Draco  _would have been one for Theo_ had he not been so stern. Just the thought of it made him slap Draco's wandering hand away. The clap of their hands was enough to stop one of the dark suited Imperial Guard security men to pause and peer around cautiously.   
  
Harry flourished his wand, sending out a subtle magic detection spell but found the men to be Muggles. He turned and gave Draco  _a look_ , only to catch Draco's adoring, dopey-eyed stare. As much as it irritated Harry that he was being won over with it, he had to admit that being looked at by Draco like that was rather endearing and pleasing. Even though they'd just shagged, thinking about that look too much was going to ruin the line of the shinobi shozoku.   
  
After consulting the map, Harry determined that the emperor was on the other side of the wall, but the door was guarded by several security officers. He pointed to the wall to demonstrate to Draco where they needed to go and held up the map. At this, Draco nodded and pulled his wand, drawing a rectangle from the floor up to a few inches over their heads and back down to the floor again. Then, he simply displaced the blank, white wall and he and Harry walked through.   
  
Inside, they saw a tall throne of dark wood and white cushions before a black screen. The back of the throne reached at least a foot above the small, grey-haired Japanese man who stood before it. The man leaned forward to examine the sword Mifune was presenting to him. Mifune's head was bowed but his eyes were up, a wicked smile on his face. They traded words in Japanese that Harry did not understand.  
  
Then, His Imperial Highness, The Emperor Akihito, looked around the room at the many men in suits who were standing on either side of him. Everyone looked as nonplussed as the emperor. Harry empathized with the men. This situation was terribly confusing and now that he was here, and invisible, he wasn't sure what to do.  
  
"Come to see the beginning of the end, Ryuu?" asked Mifune, not even turning to see them.   
  
When Harry looked at Draco, the dreamy-eyes had given way to flushed fury. "Don't call me that."  
  
The other men in the room appeared even more befuddled than before.   
  
"End the spell," Draco instructed.  
  
Harry did so to a rather loud and startled clamor, but all present seemed to take in that they were ninja and showing up out of thin air was to be expected. They all nodded to one another sagely and gestured their understanding.   
  
The Emperor, however, kept his eyes trained on Harry's wand for a moment longer than the others and then eyed Mifune. Harry knew that most heads of state were at least briefed on the existence of Magic folk, so he assumed that Akihito had cottoned on to the situation. It was hard to tell if he looked more relieved or tired when he peered down at the sword.   
  
Harry wasn't an expert on Japanese history, but he did understand that World War II probably occurred while Akihito was a child, so he probably remembered a time when his title was considered divine and not merely a pretty figurehead. He couldn't quite contain his surprise, but he appeared resigned to the eventuality.   
  
"I won't let you do this," said Draco as he took a few steps forward.  
  
Mifune whirled around, holding his wand out. He pointed it at Draco and then at Harry. Harry still had his wand out and he narrowed his eyes, thinking of a thousand spells he could use on Mifune-- some to restrain him, some to disable him, some that were malicious. But then Mifune's wand was trained to Draco. He leered at Harry, as if he'd just read what he was thinking. A Legilimens. Those were never pleasant to deal with.   
  
"You can't stop me, Draco Malfoy. Not even Harry Potter can. The Emperor has been presented with the sword. He knows the truth of what it is and what it can do. I will invoke divine right and make Japan the power it was meant to be!" he said, his voice high and absolute as any cartoon villain's might be.   
  
Behind him, the Emperor actually looked excited about the prospect, and the other Japanese men were looking to one another as if this plan had merit. They would all stand to gain much, in the end. It was then that Harry saw how this plan really might work-- especially with a magical person at the helm who could mobilize a wealthy nation. Mifune probably had several Percys all over the world, in key countries that would fall in line behind him. Harry swallowed hard, realizing how easy it would be.  
  
He was close to Draco and knew him well enough to be in tune with him, and he felt a small, subtle magic emanate from him. Whatever it was must have been soft enough that Mifune didn't feel it, because his expression didn't change. Harry wondered what it was, and if it was that subtle, what good it could possibly do.   
  
"I couldn't stop you if that sword were real. Which it is not," said Draco. "I gave you a fake sword."  
  
Mifune laughed. "I've felt the magic of this sword. I know it's real, you know it's real. You would not have come all of this way for a fake sword, Draco. Or brought your Potter with you."  
  
"Inspect it, Emperor, you'll see it is fake," said Draco.   
  
Harry looked between the two Japanese men. Mifune's anger flared, but he handed the sword to the emperor. The man put on his glasses, his hand shaking as the other held it by the hilt. He looked it up and down, squinting at the hilt and then the blade. When he turned it over, his head pulled back in surprise, then he squinted and looked at it closer, his head tilted. "Made... in... China?" he asked, his voice accented lightly with Japanese, but otherwise rather good as far as label-reading went.   
  
"What?" asked Mifune. He spun around and snatched the sword from the Emperor and glared down at the tiny gold sticker, looking more annoyed than furious. "Just what do you mean to accomp--"  
  
Just then, several ninja appeared around the room, their wands drawn. "Treason is a high offense in Japan, is it not? And you just tried to usurp the throne with a fake relic," said Draco.  
  
He looked tall, proud and strong; although his expression was slightly anxious in that way that told Harry there was a lot more to this relationship with Mifune than he knew. More than he probably wanted to know. He couldn't let it bother him now. He was the one with Draco, the one that Draco gave those adoring looks to. The one Draco said  _I love you_  to.  
  
"No! It's real, it's re--" Mifune swore, holding up his wand to point it at the ninjas. There were simply far too many of them. One reached for the sword, but Draco was too quick for him and summoned it into his hand.   
  
"Can't let you have that," said Draco, raising a brow. Harry was surprised that he might challenge a ninja, given his admiration for them, but the ninja shrugged and went about the business of arresting Mifune.   
  
The Muggles appeared confused and saddened by the turn of events. To Harry's surprise, Draco said something in Japanese to the emperor, then crossed the room to him and presented him with the sword with an impressive bow. He pulled his wand and clasped his hand and spoke an incantation that Harry had never heard before. By the end of it, Akihito had tears in his eyes. He looked overwhelmed, his face flushed, but he nodded again.   
  
Draco released his hand and then bowed again and rejoined Harry. "And that's that. We still have some paperwork, of course, but... now that the sword is bound to the Muggle emperor and his lineage, we shouldn't have to worry about another megalomaniacal despot until the next prophecy."  
  
The wording caught Harry off-guard, and while he wanted to ask what Draco meant, he was exhausted. The immediate danger seemed to be over and now he just wanted to get back home. "So does that mean you can come back to London?"  
  
"Yes. It might take a few days to get the paperwork cleared up here, but then I should be able to go back to London a free man, and able to return to my job... and my flat," said Draco, sliding his arms around Harry's waist. "Have I told you what a sexy ninja you make?"  
  
Harry was disappointed that Draco said he'd return to his flat. The one really nice thing about this whole adventure was that Draco had moved into Grimmauld, at least temporarily. "You don't have to move back into your flat," he said, blushing at the sexy ninja comment. "You could stay with me."  
  
If Harry didn't know any better, he'd say that Draco's cheeks flushed a little at the invitation. "We'll see. Still have to see to your memory-impaired friend yet, right? And we don't want to rush things."  
  
It sounded a lot like "no" but Harry was going to try to remain optimistic. "Yeah. All right," he said, exhaling slowly.   
  
He started to lower his head, but Draco caught his chin with his finger and gazed at him with a funny smile on his face. "I've always wanted to kiss a ninja," he said. With his other hand, he pulled the scarf down and tilted his head to the side, closing in for a warm, soft kiss. Harry could tell everyone was looking at them, probably in surprise. He wondered if it was really that unusual to see two ninjas kissing.  
  
Not that it mattered, not that anything mattered as Draco sucked his bottom lip into his mouth and squeezed his arse. "Let's get started on that paperwork and head back to London."  
  
Harry smiled at him and nodded. "All right."  
  
He followed the ninjas and the Stupefied, floating body of Mifune out of the room to head to the Japanese Ministry to fill out the paperwork feeling optimistic that now the worst was behind them. 


	14. Episode 14: The Drooling Menace

"You did  _what_?" asked Harry. He rubbed his hair and stared at Ron incredulously.   
  
The Leaky was crowded with the Quidditch World Cup going on. It was playing in various magical screens around the pub and most of the witches and wizards were more absorbed in that than they were in the flitting affairs of Aurors, gay or otherwise.   
  
"Look, Harry, you don't understand. When I found out that Hermione wasn't Hermione, I really thought that... well, I thought that things would change and that I could get her back somehow and that..." Ron's voice trailed off and he sucked his lips around his braces.   
  
Harry wasn't surprised. He was let down, but he wasn't surprised. "Yeah, but she's married."  
  
"Happily. And then he came in after the therapist at St. Mungo's had explained magic to him and what was happening with his wife and they just looked so  _happy_  to see each other!" Ron looked miserable. He drank his pint almost in one swig and poured another from the pitcher.   
  
"What was he like?" asked Harry. He sipped his own, figuring he'd leave the pitcher to Ron. Ron seemed like he needed it and though Harry's disappointment in him made him want more to drink, Ron won out.   
  
"Blonde with grey eyes. Can you believe that? After you left she was on about how attractive Malfoy was and then she remembered more things about you and then her husband showed up and... not even a freckle, Harry. She forgot about me entirely!" Ron swigged halfway through his pint and started to sway on the stool.   
  
It wasn't exactly the answer to the question that Harry had asked, but he figured Ron must not have spent much time in the room getting to know Hermione's husband beyond a cursory comparison to Harry's boyfriend. It made Harry feel a little tetchy that evidently Hermione was perving on Draco, and might've secretly lusted for him while they were at school, but he chose to believe it was merely coincidence.   
  
"I'm not sure that's exactly how it works, Ron." Harry wasn't an expert on how it  _did_  work, but he couldn't really believe Hermione had unresolved feelings for him or Draco. It was a little weird she seemed to have forgotten Ron completely. "Maybe she's just saving the best for last," Harry offered.  
  
"Yeah, maybe. Anyway, Luna was still in the room at St. Mungo's and she told me how funny I was in Hogwarts and then I spilled some tea on myself and she said she knew where the linens were kept in this closet in the back-- because she used to Sweet Stripe as a volunteer after the war?-- and before I knew it, we were in the cupboard and I had one leg on an upturned bin and my cock in her arse," Ron babbled before finishing another pint and setting up yet another.  
  
Harry's eyes widened and a few men who had been paying attention to the game tried not to look at them out of the corners of their eyes. But they totally were. "I don't really need that kind of detail."  
  
"Seriously! You wouldn't believe the dirty things that came out of Luna's mouth! She told me she was a 'dirty cunting slut' and that she wanted 'daddy' to fuck her 'raw.' Half of it didn't even make sense!" said Ron. He looked happier with that memory than he had all night, though. "Anyway, gave her my wrong address so tell her I move around a lot. Bit of a deviant, that one. Not sure I want her just showing up."   
  
All of that information, all of it at once, and none of it was anything Harry ever in a million years wanted to know. He didn't know what it was he did want to know, so he wondered why he'd even asked. Next time he wouldn't. He said that all of the time.   
  
"I'll be sure to not let her know you live, or where you live," said Harry, pushing his glasses. He'd had about enough of all of this. He felt horrid for Hermione, but almost worse for Ron, but it was Luna who was getting the bad end of this, although it sounded like she'd enjoyed it, so maybe it was just a wash.   
  
"What about Malfoy?" asked Ron.  
  
Harry wished Ron would remain disinterested in the situation. "What about him?"  
  
"True love? Going to move in?" asked Ron.   
  
It was Harry's turn to pour a full pint. "Draco's elected to remain in his own flat, finding that it would be putting too much pressure on our relationship to go on living together."  
  
"..." said Ron. He gaped at Harry like he didn't believe what he was hearing.  
  
Sighing, Harry said, "I know, right? But I have this theory that... he thinks he's protecting me from all of the fall out with what happened in Japan."  
  
"I still can't believe that after saving their country and preserving their way of life, the Japanese would still treat it like an International Incident. I thought Malfoy was a shoe-in for the Order of Merlin," said Ron. His eyes averted a moment to check the Quidditch World Cup score.  
  
Harry knew that Ron didn't care that much about the score; after all, the Chudley Cannons-- after a promising season-- weren't playing. He guessed that Ron just didn't want to look at Harry in his misery. It was hard to fault him for that. "Yeah. But really, it wasn't exactly the government Japan would've had for itself had it not been for the intervention of Allied forces."  
  
Ron eyed Harry. "Look at who's been paying attention in history class." Smirking, Ron took another sip of his pint.  
  
Blushing, Harry shrugged and ducked his head. "In any case, I think the Japanese Ministry of Magic were more irked that Draco overshot the sticking charm on an ancient holy relic and it's going to forever be labeled 'Made in China.'"  
  
"Cheers to that," said Ron. He grinned sympathetically and Harry took another long, hard swallow off his pint. "At least they have it."  
  
"And at least Malfoy still has his job." Harry wasn't sure if that fact made him happy or sad, because while he was pleased Draco would continue to be an Auror, it did give Draco a legitimate reason to keep his distance.   
  
He was about to admit this to Ron when an announcer cut in over the Quidditch World Cup. "We cut into the broadcast of the Quidditch World Cup in order to bring you this pressing news: Barty Crouch, Jr.-- best known for his villainy with the Death Eaters and tampering with the Triwizard Tournament-- has escaped from Azkaban. Anyone who comes across Crouch is warned to keep their distance and to file a report to the Ministry at once. We repeat: Barty Crouch, Jr. is currently at large in London. We now return you to your scheduled programme."  
  
"What? What's a soulless wraith going to do--" Ron started.  
  
"We should head to the Mini--" Harry said at the same time. Their wands vibrated, summoning them to the Ministry.   
  
Short of breath, Harry worried for what Crouch might do while he was on the loose, but on top of all of that, his heart was hammering over the opportunity to see Draco again.   
  
" _Soberus_!" said Ron, casting it on himself before repeating it to cast on Harry-- a gentlemanly way of handling it, since a drunken wizard was often likely to hex rather than heal.  
  
"Looks like they're playing our song," said Harry, pleased that Ron was summoned also. "Shall we?"  
  
Off their stools with a few Galleons plunked down on the bar, Harry and Ron were in the Ministry within minutes.  
  
\--  
  
"Yes, Barty Crouch, Jr. is on the loose in London," said Kingsley, standing at a podium in front of all of the Aurors at his disposal, "but no, he is not an imminent threat. He has no soul, so he's just wandering around in a daze, and as far as anyone knows, he is unarmed."  
  
"Soulless and wandering around in a daze?" asked Draco. He was sitting in the second row, a few seats from Harry. He'd glanced at Harry once or twice with an inscrutable expression before the meeting started. Now he wasn't looking at Harry at all. "How will we tell him from Muggles?"  
  
The rest of the Aurors tittered but Harry didn't. He wasn't entirely sure Draco was joking. If he weren't already angry with him for bailing after telling Harry he loved him, he'd hate him for that.  
  
"Settle down," said Kingsley. It was obvious he was at wit's end. His pate glittered in refracted light from the beads of sweat and he fidgeted, shifting from foot to foot. Kingsley was normally so calm and cool, but Harry knew there was a lot of pressure on him since he'd made the decision to accept Draco in the first place.   
  
Having the Wizarding world breathing down his neck over an escaped convict couldn't have helped.  
  
Harry sat up straighter and hoped to get the meeting back in order. The best thing to do was to start from the top. "How did he escape?"   
  
"Good question," Kingsley commended. "He'd been sent to St. Mungo's for a check-up and managed to just wander off. St. Mungo's has been thoroughly searched as well as the surrounding area. We're not ruling out that someone might've seen him and taken him home. He could be alive and at large, or some private citizen might've served up their own justice."  
  
 _Would serve him right_ , Harry thought. The expressions on the other Aurors' faces bore out his conviction.   
  
"Or maybe a Death Eater sympathizer took him in," Draco volunteered.  
  
"Like you?" snapped Jugson, another fresh Auror from Harry's class. He was the son of a Death Eater, and always overcompensated by being the first to trash Death Eaters, and Draco when he could get away with it.  
  
Normally, this would mildly peeve Harry, but today, he just wanted Draco to squirm.  
  
Draco lifted his chin defiantly, pulling up to his full height as he puffed up his chest. "I did more than sympathize," he shot back.   
  
The other Aurors murmured to themselves and Harry was left to wonder what would posses Draco to say that. Especially now that his job was on the line, it seemed obnoxious and stupid, but then, that was just how Harry remembered him from school.   
  
"All right, pay attention, people," said Kingsley. His expression was almost wounded as he eyed Draco.   
  
Chastened by the look, Draco flopped against his chair with his arms and legs crossed, looking petulant and spoiled. It was Hogwarts all over again.  
  
"I don't need to tell you what kind of panic this has struck in the hearts and minds of the Wizarding world, so I'm putting all of you on this case. We need him accounted for and locked up as soon as possible. I've assigned you all segments of London to patrol. Keep your eyes and ears open. We'll track his magical signature, but I can't imagine that he'd remember spells even if he managed to get a wand."  
  
Turning towards the meta-screen behind him, Kingsley pointed at the labeled map and then turned back to the crowd. "There are packets with information about Crouch and where his old haunts were, as well as the most recent picture we have of him. Pick one up on your way out. Good luck."  
  
Harry was disappointed there wouldn't be partners assigned, but there was so much area to cover, and Barty wasn't really a threat, so he understood. When he opened his file, he saw a pale shadow of the Barty Crouch, Jr. that he'd seen fourth year-- and considering the state he was in when he saw him then, that was saying a lot. His cheeks were even more sunken in and his eyes vague, black holes staring with horror at the camera. He looked haunted and terrified.   
  
Some big threat.   
  
He was perusing the list of where Barty's known hang-outs once were, noting that most of them had gone by the wayside long ago when he smelled a hint of Draco's cologne. His pulse was racing and he was about to indulge himself in another look at Draco when he felt a familiar hand on his elbow.  
  
"I think we should work together on this," said Draco, once he'd pulled Harry aside into his cubicle.   
  
All Harry could think, aside from  _it's so nice to have you touch me again_  was,  _so I'm good enough to work with, but not to live with_. Then, he consulted the map that had been enclosed in the packet to see where he and Draco were to go. "We're patrolling opposite ends of London, Malfoy."  
  
For the merest of moments, Draco looked wounded at being called Malfoy and Harry felt a small triumph at his pain. "Sod that. I've a better idea,  _Potter_ ," Draco shot back. "But we can't talk about it here. Come with me."  
  
 _I'd follow you anywhere_.  
  
Harry hated his weakness when he should be telling Draco to sod off with his schemes. It probably wasn't even that Draco wanted to spend time with Harry, but that he wanted to get back into the Ministry's good graces by solving the case quickly. The notion crushed Harry. "No."  
  
"What d'you mean 'no'?" asked Draco in a tone that suggested that he wasn't used to hearing that word.   
  
As much as Harry wanted to feel victory in that, he was getting wrung out on his own chaotic emotions. "I mean 'I'm not going anywhere with you, you... non-flat-liver!" Not his best insult to date. Very possibly his worst, but he was rather strung out.  
  
Draco blinked slowly and furrowed his brows. "It's not like I dumped you. I just don't think we should live together. The Ministry already..."  
  
"The Ministry  _knows_  we're together, Malfoy! It was in the  _Daily Prophet_. Our friends know it, the other Aurors know it, dogs can scent it out on us. Everyone seems to know that we belong together but you!" Harry all but shouted.  
  
The bullpen got very, very quiet.   
  
Harry blushed crimson.   
  
He hated Draco for not having the decency to blush with him.  
  
After tapping his finger to his own lips, Draco grabbed Harry by the back of the neck to pull him into a deep, hard kiss-- the sort that leave you breathless, curl your toes, and slash writers eventually run out of interesting physical reactions to show off its supreme awesomeness (particularly at 5 a.m.)  
  
Before Harry could protest, or catch his breath, Draco grabbed his arm and steered him to one of the old courtrooms to chat.  
  
\--  
  
Standing in the middle of the old courtroom gave Harry chills. Remembering sitting in the middle of the room, young and scared after a summer of being ignored by his friends and Dumbledore only to have him show up, testify on his behalf and tell him the truth about Figg did not improve his mood.   
  
"Malfoy, if you don't want to live with me, then I don't want to work with you. Besides, we're on opposite ends of..." Harry started. His dialogue was broken off by Draco pushing him up against the stone walls and kissing him again. Damn him for shutting him up this way.  
  
Damn him that it worked.   
  
"Listen to me," said Draco, still pressing Harry against the wall. Harry was already hard from the contact and then Draco was right there, his angelic face right in front of him. Now that Harry looked at him-- really looked at him-- he saw the dark circles under his eyes, the cracks in Draco's facade of being all right.   
  
All of Harry's resentment fell away as he realized just how stressed Draco was. No matter how much Harry wanted him to live with him, seeing Draco like this was more than he could bear. All he wanted now was to hold him, touch him, tell him it would be all right and fix things for him.   
  
"I'm listening," said Harry. He pushed Draco's hair from his face, sighing and resigning himself to at least hearing him out.   
  
"All right. Fair point that the Ministry knows about us, but my solicitor says that I do need to cool it somewhat with you, not to give them further cause to fire me unless I do want to be out of a job. I took this job initially for protection, I'll admit that. But Harry, I  _like_  working here. I love investigating crimes, getting into messes, using my wits to bail me back out of it. I see why you enjoy the hero thing so much," said Draco.  
  
His breath was warm and soothing on Harry's face-- just the hint of white tea, so sugary sweet. Harry wanted to kiss him again but was fairly certain that wouldn't be welcome at this juncture. "Hero thing. It's not... it's a 'saving people thing' and anyway... fine. I get that, I guess. But if we work together, how does that..."  
  
"I have an idea... and I need you there in case anything goes wrong. I guess I could get Weasley or Tonks to help but..." Draco trailed off and gazed at Harry and Harry blushed, hoping that he was reading what Draco was trying to say correctly.  
  
"You like working with me the best?" asked Harry.  
  
Draco nodded. "I've trusted you with my life and would do so again. I don't think this will come to that, but if it does, I'll need you there. Besides, if it works and we're credited together, the Ministry would be hard-pressed to spin it that our relationship gets in the way of anything."  
  
"Unless it goes poorly," Harry pointed out. It felt so good to be touching Draco, though, he was pretty sure he'd agree to just about anything.   
  
"It won't," said Draco. He took a step back and started rolling up his left sleeve.  
  
The Dark Marks had vanished when Voldemort had died, or so Harry had thought. He hadn't specifically looked for Draco's but he figured it would stand out on his fish belly white arm. It didn't, until Draco pressed his wand to it.  
  
Then the horrifying symbol that had so haunted his thoughts and dreams through most of his adolescence stirred on Draco's arm and a snake wove its familiar pattern over Draco's forearm up into the skull and slid out again between its teeth. It reminded Harry of so many horrid things, tragic things that had gone on between him and Draco, particularly sixth year. He remained silent.  
  
Draco didn't look up at him. "I think you've probably seen a Calling before, if what my father told me was true."  
  
Harry wondered what kind of father talked to his son about Death Eater meetings in which someone your age was killed whilst another waited to be ruthlessly murdered, but then, Harry never liked Lucius Malfoy. "Where the Death Eaters were summoned? I thought only Voldemort could do that."  
  
Though Draco's breath halted at the name, he didn't flinch or comment. "Only the Dark Lord had the power to summon people with it at the time. It was his mark, but it is a mark that connects us all to an extent. Anyone with sufficient power could do a Calling."  
  
"And you've a load of power now," Harry said, completing the thought. "But won't it pull all the Death Eaters to you? Would it pull them out of Azkaban?"  
  
Draco laughed nervously and shifted his weight. "That's where having you around would be um... helpful. But no, they couldn't be pulled out of Azkaban. If it were that easy, the Dark Lord would've just summoned all of his loonies out of Azkaban when he first returned. There are wards that prevent it."  
  
"Right," said Harry, exhaling and pleased that he wasn't going to have to round up all of the Death Eaters again. He wasn't sure he had it in him to start all over with bringing them in. It was grueling enough the first time.  
  
"But the Dark Lord could also summon individuals. I believe it was just a matter of concentration. Surely calling Barty Crouch, Jr., who would have no defenses to this anyway, should be a snap," said Draco as he pushed his sleeve back down.  
  
"Unless it all goes wrong," Harry pointed out, shoving his hands into his pockets. The firelight from the torches lit up Draco's hair again and all Harry really wanted to do was to snog and think about how Draco said he hadn't dumped him.   
  
But there was business to attend to. An addled Death Eater on the loose.   
  
"Yeah. There's that. I don't think it will, though," said Draco.  
  
"Great, then... summon him here?" asked Harry. It would be brilliant justice, Harry thought, not that Crouch would likely appreciate it, but one could dream.  
  
"Can't. Wards." Draco pointed around the courtroom as if it were the only room sealed off from interference.   
  
"Where then?" asked Harry.   
  
For a moment, Draco looked indecisive and Harry wondered how much thought Draco had put into this plan. Then again, they'd all just heard about it. It wasn't as if everyone had loads of time to sort things out. "My flat. I'll take down the wards and we'll get him bundled up for the Ministry. C'mon."  
  
What else could he do, but comply?  
  
\--  
  
For reasons all his own, Draco had decided that his practice room would be the best for summoning Crouch to his flat. He said it was the room with the most cleared out space, which was fair enough considering the couch and the coffee table in the main room and the way that his bed took up most of his bedroom, but the Japanese weaponry on the side wall seemed like an unnecessary danger.  
  
While Draco took down the multitude of wards on his flat, Harry busied himself with setting up repelling charms on the wall of blades. Behind the teak wall mounts that held several expensive and lethal katanas was a gold-leaf patina of paint that brightened the room with its subtle reflection. The wooden shades were drawn tight against the night, aided by magic to keep anyone from the outside peering in. Harry imagined those wards never came down.  
  
Opposite the windows was a long line of floor-to-ceiling mirrors. Along with the hardwood floor, the room appeared set up for a dancer but for the mutilated dummies and swords about. It was a nice set-up as far as Harry was concerned, but he was pretty sure he could emulate a room like this in Grimmauld. It was definitely big enough. Draco could easily practice in the attic while Harry fussed about and...  
  
No. Draco said he didn't want to move in and Harry reminded himself that he had to accept that. Still, with each charm he cast, he couldn't help pining for Draco to move back in, to make it permanent this time. He sighed wistfully as he heard Draco pad back into the room.   
  
Whatever spells he'd had to undo had left Draco dewy with perspiration; his face glistened under the upright lighting, making him appear golden, even in contrast to his starkly black robes. In those robes, Harry could really see Draco as a dark wizard, could see his fascination being piqued and his curiosity and abilities overwhelming his sense of right and wrong. Now he really could see Draco as a member of the Death Eaters.   
  
As such, he wasn't surprised when Draco pulled up his sleeve and tapped his wand to the blank spot on his forearm and the deadly snake wove its way through the skull.   
  
"I know you've seen this before," said Draco. His tone bordered on harsh, but when Harry looked at him, his expression appeared apprehensive.   
  
"What, the mark? Yeah. I've seen it. Just..." Harry slid his finger over the mark. It was warm when he'd somehow thought it would feel like ice-- like the coldness he saw in those merciless red eyes before he'd put Voldemort down. Instead, it was warm, pliant and soft like skin. Like Draco's skin. It was an unavoidable part of who Draco Malfoy was, even if Harry tried to ignore it most of the time.   
  
"It's not who I am. It never really was me, you know?" said Draco. His wand was unsteady over the mark as he stared at Harry.  
  
Harry maintained eye contact and nodded. "Yeah. I know. But your family..."  
  
"My family, yes. It's what I grew up with, what was supposed to have defined me, but it didn't. Not in the end. Now I really don't know what defines me or who I am. I want to--" Draco started. Then he faltered, staring down at Harry's fingers caressing his mark.  
  
Something about it felt incredibly intimate. It was as if there were something extraordinarily private about Draco's mark and now Harry wasn't just seeing it, but touching it. "Want to what?"  
  
"I want to figure out who I am before I let something else define me."  
  
The phrase gutted Harry. All he could do was to stare at Draco's mark and blink, his breath short. "So you're... breaking up with me? You said you loved me."  
  
"No, I mean, do you want to break up? That wasn't... I just thought living together was too much. I still want to... are you wanting to break up?" asked Draco. His eyes were wide and paranoid and no small amount of hurt. Harry knew that look intimately.   
  
He felt guilty for his schadenfreude, but after fretting so much about what Draco not moving in might mean because Draco didn't give him a straight answer, he didn't worry about it so much. "No," said Harry, "I don't. I don't think that you're defined by where you live, but if this is what you want, we can work it out."  
  
Draco looked immensely relieved and took Harry's hand from his forearm to kiss his fingertips. "Working it out sounds good."  
  
"So. Right." Harry fought his beaming smile, because it wasn't really appropriate for the work they were about to do. It still crept out onto his face, the irrepressible little bugger. "Crouch, then?"  
  
"Quite," said Draco. He dropped Harry's hand and moved his wand back from the crook of his thumb into proper swishing position.   
  
"Should I stand back?" asked Harry, pulling his wand, ready to hex Crouch. He hadn't seen him since fourth year and was a little nervous as to how the reunion would go. Memory versus soul was something he'd never considered before. Would Crouch remember him? Would he know what to think if he did?  
  
"No, I don't think you need to, unless you just want to. You might be too close, although I don't think I can control where someone appears when they're summoned. Maybe either really close or against a wall.   
  
Harry opted to stay near Draco, pressing against him from behind as he looked over Draco's shoulder to the mark.   
  
Draco sagged against him for a moment before swishing and flicking over his forearm. His wand vibrated and Harry felt a little unsteady. There was some powerful dark magic at work, likely bound by blood in some ancient ritual or another. Harry could never explain how he knew things like that. Sometimes he just did. It was almost as if he could smell the taint of blood on the air.   
  
Ultimately, the smell dissipated and Draco rested against Harry. "I think you this close is probably distracting me," he said, turning around to hug and kiss Harry tenderly, brushing his fingers through Harry's hair, eyes darting over his face to read his expression.   
  
"All right. I'll go over by the wall, then," said Harry. He squeezed Draco one last time before standing against the blank far wall that was painted only in the smattering of gold. Distracting-- that was a good word for the wood he'd been sporting since Draco showed up looking like a hot Death Eater stud.   
  
He must've been frotting Draco's back. It wasn't very professional, but then, Harry and rules often didn't mix.   
  
This time when Draco tried the summoning, Harry sensed even less magic reaching out. He could feel the magnetism (which he attributed to his scar), so he'd no doubts that Draco was doing it correctly. "It could be that Crouch is just too far away? We've no idea where he went. Or maybe he's dead?"  
  
"No, he's not dead. I can feel him. I just can't seem to muster the power I need to bring him in," said Draco. He pocketed his wand and rubbed his temple in slow circles.   
  
"So you can feel him, but can't bring him in? I thought you had all of these superpowers?" Harry sauntered closer to Draco, feeling an electric charge just by being near him. He could get addicted to this.   
  
"I have powers, yes, but I'm not exactly the Dark Lord, you know?" said Draco, whose mood started to border on frustration.   
  
"Right. I didn't mean... is there anything I can do?" The more Harry thought about it, the more he started to suspect that Draco thought this might happen. Draco didn't appear particularly surprised that Crouch hadn't shown up.   
  
Given what had happened in their past assignments, Harry wasn't altogether surprised to hear Draco say, "Our power generally seems stronger when we're... together."   
  
Flicking back his hair, Draco was obviously trying to look superior, but Harry could tell he wanted it. Wanted  _him_.   
  
"Joined together? I don't know, aren't you afraid that doing something like that with me will start to 'define you'?" Harry was being a prat, but he couldn't help taking the piss, particularly when it was offered to him.   
  
"Oh hush," said Draco, slightly red-faced. "It's part of the job. We have to do it to protect society."  
  
Harry wasn't fond of remembering the last time they'd had to do it, with Theodore Nott keeping his beady little eye on Draco the whole time they shagged and then coming in his hair. "Your arse does a lot for society."   
  
"It does what it can to keep the public safe," Draco quipped. "I'd say we could hold hands and try again, but I think we'd both rather shag anyway."  
  
After a quick sporfle of surprise, Harry had to agree, that honestly, he didn't care if just holding hands worked. It had been far too long between shags for him to want to spend much time debating the ins and outs of it. An internal monologue pun! Harry thought about sharing it, but Draco was eye-fucking him and he didn't want to lose the moment. Trying to sound calm, he said, "Yeah, all right."   
  
Harry eyed the mirrors, thinking it would be nice to watch himself fucking Draco. Absently, he wondered if that wasn't why Draco had chosen this room for the ceremony, but then, Draco was often such a slave to creature comforts, it was hard to imagine that what he really wanted was a shag on the hardwood floor.  
  
Staring at the floor for a moment, movement caught Harry's eye in the mirror at first, then he looked at Draco, who was stripping slowly, sensually pulling his buttons through the silken holes, wriggling his shoulders to get them through the robes so that his magnificently flawless skin shone in the golden reflective glow in the room. With so many reflections, it was hard to find a distinct light source, which lit Draco's body perfectly.   
  
It had been a long time since he'd really had a chance to stop and admire Draco's body. He thought about when Draco had performed-- practiced yoga in front of him, the way his lithe body twisted in sinewy elegance. Now he was folding his clothes, setting them beside the mirror and standing before it, cock out, pink, glistening and straight, pale curls trimmed short around the base.  
  
The pose seemed familiar to Draco. Of course he was the sort of man who would toss off staring at himself, looking for flaws, enjoying the fact that he didn't think he had any. There was something else in Draco's eyes as he looked at Harry in the mirror. Draco braced his wand hand against the wall as he stroked himself with the other. Jutting his arse out, he widened his stance, opening up for Harry.  
  
By now, Harry had started to carry a tube of lubricant, 'just in case' of emergencies such as this. He liked the magical lubricant just fine, but he thought having his own showed a certain preparedness and a want, and maybe, just maybe, he thought Draco might catch him with it and question why Harry started to carry it. After the whole living together debacle, Harry couldn't help but sometimes want Draco to feel those moments of immobilizing doubt.   
  
This wasn't the moment Harry wanted Draco to experience that particular emotion. Right now, what he wanted to communicate was how much he wanted Draco, how much he needed him, and how good he could make him feel.   
  
Draco's eyes widened when Harry knelt down behind him. He started by kissing over Draco's perfect, rosy little bum, nibbling under the curve of it as he undressed himself. He bit one cheek as he shrugged out of his top and the other as he kicked out of his bottoms.   
  
Moaning, Draco's head pressed against his forearm against the mirror, his erratic breath misted a small portion of the glass, fading slightly before another balmy breath blossomed another patch of humidity.   
  
Once Harry was out of his clothes, he devoured Draco's arse. He dragged his teeth over the waxy skin, sucking and teasing around the hole. He loved the feel of the sheltered skin under his tongue, loved the twitches and contractions around the very tip of his tongue and mostly, he loved how completely incoherent Draco had become.   
  
Harry had both hands on Draco's hips as he ate his arse out, ducking his tongue in and out of his dirty hole like he was lapping the last of an ice cream cone, stabbing his tongue in and out, lapping around the ring. He suctioned his lips around the hole, kneading and teasing it as he sucked whatever skin he could reach.  
  
Draco was babbling like a Pentecostal, his hand balled into a tight fist around his wand. Harry hoped that his prick wasn't suffering the same fate. Now Draco was sinking, losing his legs out from under him in a slow, wanton fall to his knees. Harry tried to guide him down as carefully as he could, kissing up Draco's spine when he touched down.  
  
Replacing his tongue with his fingers, Harry finger fucked him, taking his time since they seemed to have some. He was mesmerized by the way his fingers moved in and out of Draco, even more amazed at how sexy Draco was on all fours, how needy he sounded and how lost in the sensations he was.  
  
The reflection of Draco's face showed an expression of utter bliss. Harry pulled his cock slowly at first, watching the way that each little shift, each adjustment of where his thumb went-- dipping into the slit versus sliding it over, the way he moved his fingers in a thrumming motion-- how each little change seemed to trigger another expression on Draco's face.   
  
Harry had enough trust in Draco to know that he would cast the spell when the time was right, but he was a little anxious with how into it Draco was. He supposed he could gently remind him before they came-- provided he wasn't too into it himself by then.  
  
"Are you ready?" asked Harry, not sure if he meant to be fucked or if he meant to cast the spell.  
  
"Yeah. Fuck me hard," said Draco.  
  
Harry caught a glimpse of Draco's blush before his head lolled forward to hide it. He lined up with Draco's wet hole. Harry could still taste the intensely bitter tang of Draco in his mouth, but was thrilled with how dirty he'd been, and how into the dirtiness Draco was.  
  
With a decisive thrust, Harry sliced through him. Draco's back arched and his breath caught with how fast and how deeply Harry had entered him. Harry hadn't done it to be mean, he'd done it-- he didn't know why he had, but Draco seemed to like it as he was pressing his forehead into the glass mirror wall as leverage to push back against Harry.   
  
Taking that as a cue, Harry fucked him harder, slamming in and out of him so deeply and with such force, that it almost hurt Harry to do it. Their bodies clapped and slapped together. He came all of the way out only to move all the way in, missing a few times in his excitement to let it all go and just take Draco.   
  
That was what  _fuck me hard_  would get you.   
  
Judging by Draco's loud, joyful moans and the way he thrust back, it was exactly what Draco wanted.  
  
He wanted to make Draco promise he would live with him, that they would be together and that it would be forever, but he knew it was too much to ask from this encounter. He'd have to get him again, the next time on Harry's terms. Then he would have to prove to him that this wasn't just best practices of the Auror trade, but that they really were made for each other, that he really was Draco's true love and not even the Ministry stood a chance against that.   
  
At least, he hoped not.  
  
He pulled Draco's cock, eventually grabbing Draco across the chest to yank him up so that Harry could watch himself jerk Draco off whilst he was fucking him. They both looked weary, sparkling with sweat, expressions concentrated and blissful. He loved Draco. Loved him with all of his heart and all of his soul in ways that pained him to think about when the notion of not having Draco came up. He held Draco against him, still slapping into him, with an edge of possessiveness.   
  
Draco was his, damnit. His. They were each other's firsts; they were able to break that curse together. The universe owed him this much after his childhood. After how he grew up, after all he'd been through with Draco. "Mine," Harry said, clutching Draco tightly.  
  
"Yours," Draco responded before crying out his release into Harry's hand. When Harry looked at him, he saw Draco mouthing words, his wand pressed shakily against his outstretched arm.  
  
Harry hadn't felt the spark that made his eyes cross and his body quiver in response until it was too late. Somewhere between seeing Draco's come spatter on the mirror and over his hand and the sudden, overwhelming calling spell, which spoke directly to his prick. All of it summoned his release deep inside of Draco, his grunting and gasping breaths, and the hard bite on the back of Draco's neck.   
  
There was a blindingly white flash and they were not alone.   
  
A skeletal older-looking man with wild eyes and a twitchy demeanor appeared in a swirl of yellow magic, deposited right behind them.  
  
"Time for the orgies is it? I don't know if I like orgies. I'm not sure I remember them," Barty said, his voice stuttery and confused. "But I do like sherbet. D'you kind gentle... is this time for the orgies, is it?"   
  
In an instant, Draco said, " _Stupefy_ " and then added, "Not that I think he needs it. Addled, that one. Not sure how much more stupid-fied he was going to get."  
  
Only then did Harry consider the drawbacks of having criminals show up whilst you were buggering your partner. They'd always just sort of been there, hadn't they? But it appeared there was no harm done, so it couldn't have been too bad.  
  
He grabbed his robe and pulled it on quickly as Draco did the same, pausing to tend to cleaning the come dribbling down his thighs before he dressed again.  
  
"Malfoy," said Harry, an amused smirk on his face.  
  
"Yeah?" asked Draco as he put his wand away, his hot pink violated arse clean. Harry'd enjoyed the view of Draco's leg up while he cast the spell, seeing that little hole stretched wider. Stretched because of him.  
  
"I thought you said there were no Death Eater orgies," said Harry. He looked down at the older man who looked more like he was going to stagger about demanding brains than anything else. How could Barty Crouch, Jr. have caused so much fear and pain? At his worst, he was just a man. Now he was barely even that.  
  
"There weren't any in the Death Eaters, but some Slytherin have them, if they've... whatever. From what I've heard, Barty was a bit of a "househole," if you know what I mean," said Draco, straightening up as he pulled his clothes on.  
  
"Househole? Who thinks of those kinds of words? That's just demented," said Harry, disapproving even more of Slytherin, if that was even possible.  
  
Draco shrugged. "It was optional. Obviously I never participated. Thought it was cheap. Anyway, shall we run him in? I'll make sure you get full credit for... being here when I found him."  
  
"Found him? You summoned him. You have to tell them that in your reports," said Harry, thinking about The Rules-- not that he ever put much stock in them, but he thought Draco did.  
  
"No. I told you, we can't tell anyone. No one can know about how we did this," said Draco, looking a little disturbed.  
  
Legilimancy could've been the cause for Draco's cottoning on to what was likely to be said or maybe Harry's suddenly sinister expression as he realized what he had. "Move in with me, or I'll tell the Ministry."  
  
"Potter, I'm not moving in with you under pretense of blackmail. You wouldn't like that, you'd always doubt why I was there," said Draco with the forbearance of a father who thinks it's sort of cute that his son has figured out manipulation.   
  
"A date, then?" asked Harry.  
  
Smiling, Draco nodded. "All right, then. A date it is. Just the two of us. I think we should likely get Crouch back home, yeah?"  
  
Draco flourished his wand to mobilize the body and waited for Harry to finish dressing to open the door.   
  
"Yeah. Back to the Ministry, save the world from is impending doom again; have a press conference and then dinner?" asked Harry as Draco and Crouch moved through the door and towards the flat's Floo.   
  
"Sounds like a late dinner, around ten, then?" asked Draco as he picked up a handful of Floo powder.  
  
"It's a date," said Harry. He watched Draco and Crouch vanish into emerald flame and felt warmth growing in his chest. A date. A chance. He could win Draco over, he just knew it. It would just have to be the most perfect date ever.  
  
No pressure or anything.  
  
After a sigh and a quick look around Draco's flat, he cast a rudimentary ward he knew Draco could easily break if he needed to. It was better than nothing. He hoped he'd see this place again soon.   
  
Wishes made, he grabbed his handful of Floo powered and tossed it into the Floo and said, "Ministry of Magic." This arrest was going to be a lot of paperwork, but he had a lot to look forward to.  _A date_. 


	15. Episode 15: Harry Potter and the Droopy Dong

"What are they, Wonder Twins? Gundam Wing?  _Transformers_?" Theodore Nott asked of the darkly wooden room filled with nothing but magical shiny machines rattling and jingling of their own accord. He scrubbed his eyes and then glared at the images before him-- Harry and Draco gathering themselves back together while Barty Crouch, Jr. drooled in the middle of the room looking confused.   
  
"Every time! They get into a scrape of some sort and sex seems to sort them out every time!" Theo railed against the notion, shaking his fist to the sky and through the smoke-like screen in which Harry and Draco were batting their eyes at one another, trading quips. Being in the information business didn't necessarily make Theo an expert on Muggle cartoons, but he'd watched enough through the spy stones he'd set in the many properties he owned around London to make analogies like nobody's business.   
  
One of Theo's pet projects, a mechanical Thestral made of leather and shiny black metal rolled over, sensing Theo's despair. "It's like there's some sort of enchantment on Potter's prick that makes Draco bend over for him. And Draco's arse is like the conduit for this magic to be set free! It's fooled Draco into thinking that it's love, but it's not, it couldn't be! Why would he be with that otherwise useless git?"  
  
The Thestral nudged its metal head at Theo's hand and Theo patted it a little too hard. The head dislodged from its body and was left dangling limply from the decorative leather.  
  
"Oh, Cassie. Oh dear, what have I done to you?" For a moment, Theo looked incredibly sad, sliding his fingers over Cassie and sighed. Pulling his goggles down from where they'd been holding his floppy brown fringe from his forehead, he tinkered with the neck, pulling out his wand as he whispered enchantments.  
  
Abruptly, he stopped and sat back, looking at the wounded toy in a more calculating manner. Then he stood up and beamed.   
  
"Oh Cassie! You're brilliant! Truly brilliant! I love you, Cassie!" he enthused before hugging the flaccid machine. "Brilliant," he reiterated as he raced out of the room to his library.  
  
\--  
  
In spite of their promise of a date that night, it turned out there was far more to do after their dramatic arrest than go out. Instead of any sort of romance, they ate cold kebabs at their desks and traded lust-laden innuendoes until it was far too late to remain awake and then went to their respective homes.  
  
Harry decided that the best way to deal with this Draco situation was to pretend as if they were just starting out-- as if Draco was someone he'd just met and found interesting and not someone he'd been shagging on the job for the better part of a year. This was a little difficult to wrap his head around, but if Draco was going to send them back to square one, he would need to play it like that. So, he decided to wait a good three days before contacting Draco about the where and when of their first date.  
  
That was where the trouble started.  
  
The first day went fine. They'd finished their paperwork quietly, giving the matter of Barty Crouch, Jr. all due respect to their superiors and the press. Harry let Draco tell the story of how they cornered him in a dark alleyway, how Crouch had shown up in Harry's patrol sector and that he'd summoned Draco to help him since they worked together so well.  
  
Harry let it go that he certainly wouldn't have needed help capturing a drooling, soulless man because Draco seemed so pleased with himself explaining this, and truth be told, he wouldn't have had the first idea of how to capture Crouch without him. Draco's story also seemed to be pushing hard for them to remain partners, which Harry very much liked. He didn't care to be portrayed quite as helpless as Draco described, but in the end, he figured Draco knew what he was doing (or hoped so, anyway) and just let it happen.  
  
By day three, Harry had decided to take Draco to Charmings-- an upscale Wizarding restaurant that went unmarked and mostly unfound in Diagon Alley, made visible only to those of the purest of blood or the most famous or powerful. Harry had never been there, finding the way they did business objectionable, but he thought it might really make an impression on Draco, so he figured he could bend the rules about it a little. He'd just never, ever tell Ron he went there.   
  
That morning before work, he decided in the shower that it might take the edge off to rub one out. He gripped his dripping cock in the same way he always did, tugged and pulled, fondling his balls as the warm water spattered over his face. He thought about Draco, how hot and tight he was around him, the noises he made, the way he smelled... almost like he was perfumed with a light powdery scent. How he tasted salty sweet, how he looked with livid bite marks on his shoulder and neck when Harry got carried away.   
  
Under normal circumstances, by now he'd be warring with himself as to whether he wanted to draw this out by sliding a finger inside of himself or just let it go, but instead, he was getting nothing. Not even a twitch from his cock. He was flaccid, limp, rubbery meat in his hand.   
  
Though Harry had never had this problem before, he wasn't terribly concerned. He figured it was just the stress of having to sing for his supper with Draco. It could be off-putting, right?   
  
Still, that he hadn't been able to perform ate at him during the day and he decided to put off asking Draco out until he knew exactly what the source of the stress was. He wasn't exactly a teenager anymore, but he wasn't so old that this should be a problem, especially not when Draco was traipsing around in very fitted robes and kept finding excuses to bend over around him. At least, Harry liked to think that Draco was doing it on purpose.   
  
The next day, after another foiled attempt at masturbatory pleasure, Harry decided it must be Charmings that was causing his lack of erection. Clearly, that place was far too much pressure, and having to hide it from Ron and Hermione (if she even remembered what it was) was going to be more than he could handle, if his uncooperative prick was any indication. So he cancelled the reservations and decided that maybe he should wing it. He could have Draco over and cook for him if he couldn't find anywhere better.   
  
With the reservations cancelled, Harry had nothing to blame when the next day he still couldn't get it up. He took lunch with Ron, fiddling with his chips trying to think of a way to ask Ron if he'd ever had this problem as Ron reviewed his sexual exploits with Luna, who still didn't know where he lived, but he thought was good enough to shag anyway. By the end of lunch, Harry wasn't merely angry with not being able to achieve an erection, but he was about ready to strangle Ron for the way he talked about Luna.  
  
He decided then and there that he didn't much care what Ron thought of Charmings and he would make a new reservation to take Draco there, because he knew Draco would like it and if Ron said a word about it, he'd tell him off over Luna.  
  
There.   
  
Settled.  
  
Except, he still couldn't get it up and he hadn't actually asked Draco to go anywhere with him other than to help him with an Acromantula that had crawled up through a Muggle drainpipe into someone's house. Muggles didn't enjoy spiders in general, let alone semi-sentient spiders that told them off when they tried to hit them with a shoe.   
  
It left them both in the office alone late on a Friday night. Every time Harry looked up from his paperwork, Draco gave him an expectant look before shrouding it with a cocky smirk, as if he knew this was the moment he'd been waiting for and that Harry was going to invite him somewhere. Instead, Harry looked back down at his paperwork and cleared his throat.   
  
How could he possibly go on a date with Draco and not get hard? It would be worse than not asking him out. It would be a full out catastrophe to have waited this long and then behave as if Draco didn't excite him anymore. He could only imagine how Draco would take that.  
  
" _P_ otter," said Draco. He'd started over-enunciating the "p" in Harry's last name again. It wasn't a good sign, but Harry wasn't entirely sure what to do about it.   
  
"Malfoy," said Harry as he signed his name on the last bit of parchment and then blew over it. Maybe he could just ask him out for the next weekend and see about something to get him hard at the Apothecary. Then again, he could only imagine what rumors that would start. Maybe Ron would get it for him. No. Ron would never. Besides, then he'd have to tell Ron and he really couldn't do that. Ron had become a walking erection again-- he wouldn't understand what was happening to Harry. Not that Harry understood it, either.   
  
Draco had moved over to him and leaned his hip against the edge of Harry's desk. Harry looked up at him, his beautiful porcelain face, grey eyes, and wisps of hair dangling around his face. He looked tormented and for a guilty moment, Harry took great satisfaction that for once, Draco was the one experiencing the anxiety of doubt about where things were headed. At least, that's what he thought Draco was thinking about. He was always so difficult to read.  
  
"I was just about to go. Want to join me at the pub for a drink?" asked Draco.  
  
If Harry didn't know Draco so well by now, he would've thought the question sounded casual, but there was a slight tremor in his voice and a flicker of tension behind his eyes.   
  
Harry found himself looking at the detailed ornamentation of a unicorn and a phoenix racing around on the buttons at the front of Draco's robes rather than his face. He felt pale and weak and chastened that Draco had been the one to ask him out first. It was so casual. Just go out to the pub. Have a drink or two. Or five. Relax. If he could just relax enough, maybe he could get hard.  
  
Or maybe he wouldn't.  
  
"I don't know. I have so much paperwork to do," said Harry.   
  
Draco's eyes narrowed at Harry's signature at the bottom of the report and Harry felt like he was going to be ill at the way Draco's face hardened.   
  
"Right. Fine. Well, I'll see you around,  _P_ otter," he said.  
  
"Draco, wait," said Harry. He stood so quickly he almost unsettled his chair.  
  
But Draco was already turned on his heel and walking away. "Malfoy. My name is  _Malfoy_ ,  _P_ otter."  
  
It felt as if Draco had hooks in Harry's heart and was towing it away with each step he took towards the door. Harry couldn't breathe.   
  
He shouldn't follow. He really shouldn't. He should let Draco weather this storm on his own. He should sort things out on his end and then talk to Draco about it, explain later.   
  
But then, he was Harry Potter and he couldn't just leave it at that.   
  
Harry raced after Draco. In the emptiness of the Ministry, his hurried footsteps sounded like a thousand Erumpents giving chase. Draco froze before him and whirled around.   
  
"What? What do you want, Potter? Are you trying to force my hand? Make me live with you or you won't have anything to do with me?" Draco snapped. His face was blotchy and angry, body tight and obviously shivering in the dark hall. His voice reverberated, sounding like doom.  
  
"No," said Harry, feeling like the wind had been knocked out of him. "No, that's not it at all."   
  
He should've left it at that. He knew he was going to say too much, he knew he would make it worse, but there was no stopping it, because he was Harry Potter, and going too far was what he did. "But is it so fucking horrid to live with me,  _Malfoy_?"  
  
"Is it so fucking horrid to date me,  _P_ otter?" Draco spat back.  
  
"No, it's not. I want to go out with you. I just can't right now!" Harry shouted, feeling frustrated and rushed and harried. Someone or something should be beaten, should be hurt. He needed to vent his frustration somewhere. On top of everything else, he hadn't been able to get off in a week and he felt the tension crashing in on him like waves.   
  
"What, take a vow of chastity?" asked Draco.  
  
"Don't be..." Harry's voice stopped as he thought about it. It would be one way of bypassing this situation. Draco wouldn't feel rejected if they made an agreement not to have sex. "I thought maybe we should... slow it down a bit. Maybe we shouldn't... have sex for a while. We could have a vow of chastity, then we would be forced to talk more."  
  
Even as it came out of his mouth it surprised Harry. Maybe his body was trying to force something that needed to happen between them anyway. It was brilliant, but he wasn't entirely sure it was true. At least it might buy him some time.  
  
Something lit up behind Draco's eyes. A craftiness that spoke promises of challenge and possible seduction and for the first time since their last encounter, Harry felt something _twitch_. As much as he really wanted to explore that, Draco was nodding and with that spark in his eye gone, Harry's his semi-hardness returned to flaccid nothingness. Harry tried not to sigh.  
  
"All right. Then we'll have a date without sex," said Draco. The expression on his face made it look like the idea didn't sound particularly appealing to Draco, but Harry was at a loss for another way to approach things at the moment. Draco would just have to forgive him. "Great. So... how about Saturday night?"  
  
Harry reasoned that gave him another week to try and sort things out and if it didn't work, they could go with the celibacy plan.   
  
"All right. Saturday night. Pick me up at eight, then, and it had better be a bloody fantastic date if you're making me wait another week," said Draco.  
  
No pressure or anything, thought Harry. "Yeah. Eight, then."  
  
Now he just needed to sort out his dick.  
  
\--  
  
Justin Finch-Fletchley, once destined for Eton, had found it difficult to establish his place in the Ministry of Magic after he'd accidentally hexed his boss's poodle into a squid and had no way of changing it back. Thus, he'd been forced to come up with a back-up career in order to make a living.   
  
This was how the House of Erotica off-off-off Diagon Alley was born.   
  
To his shame, Harry had never once set foot in Justin's shop, as he knew he would find all of the magical beast pricks hanging on the walls in all of their shiny, shimmying, unlikely neon colored glory. Not to mention that since he was a bit of a celebrity, if he ran into anyone there, he'd be mortified.   
  
Fortunately, Justin was more than willing to open the shop up after hours to accommodate Harry, which left only one last giant hurdle to jump. He reasoned with himself that Justin was not only a friend, but an expert in such matters, because surely he couldn't have a store without having some inkling about pricks and how to get them hard.   
  
So, after a long preamble of polite asking about Justin's business, about how he hadn't found the right girl yet and other such pleasantries, Justin finally asked, "So what are you after, Harry? Does Malfoy want some anal beads and is too scared to get them himself?"   
  
He'd never even heard of anal beads, but they did sound like something Draco might like. It sounded a lot like jewelry for your anus. That line of thinking was cleared up when Justin pointed to the beads on a display beside Harry. The actual item looked innocuous enough, but the demonstrative picture with a witch and her tiny, bleached arse spitting out graduating sizes of little beads attached by a string weirded Harry out enough that he turned right back around, blushing brightly.  
  
"Um. Erm. No. I'm not here... I mean, I guess I'm here because of Draco, but not for that. I'm having umm..." said Harry, looking shifty and awkward.  
  
"Ooooh," said Justin, nodding sagely. "Bit of a back up in the old stiffy department, eh? Lot of mornings without wood?"   
  
As embarrassing as the vulgarities were, Harry was grateful he didn't have to say the words. "Yeah, so... you know about... that, right?"  
  
"Not from experience," said Justin. Harry thought he looked far too smug about this fact and he didn't care for the appraising look that Justin was giving him. "But I sell a load of stuff for that. Mostly to middle-aged men, though."  
  
Finding that comment far too pointed, Harry looked around the store nervously again. He saw a stack of small cages in the department clearly labeled "Erectile Dysfunction."  
  
Harry didn't care for that term. He wasn't caring for a lot of things about this whole experience. "What are those?"  
  
"Spanish flies," said Justin as he headed over to them. He brought over one of the tiny mesh cages that contained a few small, buzzing black flies. They looked pretty British to Harry, but then, it wasn't as if he was some sort of fly expert. "Muggles got wind of them, but they seem to think you eat them. Pretty funny if you ask me."   
  
"Those help with your... with um..." Harry mumbled, wondering what else you could do with them. He'd assumed they'd go into a potion at the very least.  
  
"They get you hard, yeah. What you do is take one out and coax it into your urethra. You know-- the slit of your cock?" asked Justin.   
  
Harry knew what a urethra was. That wasn't at all what was making him gape. It was inserting a  _fly_  of any nationality into your prick that was setting him into a very quiet fit of DO NOT WANT!!!  
  
"Yeah, so, it crawls in there and does its Spanish fly thing. Oh, but you have to say 'El Erectione' when you want to get hard, and then 'El Flaccido' when you're done with it. Then it flies out and you can put it back in the cage. Though most people don't really want to and they just let them go. That's why the kit comes with a dozen," said Justin. His fingers traced over the edges of the little mesh cage as he watched Harry.  
  
For his part, it was lucky that Harry didn't just pull up stakes and run for his life. He wanted to. He very badly wanted to. Instead, he reminded himself of Draco, of being inside of him. Surely this Spanish fly wasn't the only option. And yet... what if it was? "El Flaccido? Is that a spell?"  
  
"No, it's not a spell at all. It's a command."  
  
Harry looked over to the Erectile Dysfunction department; sure he saw other things that looked more likely. "Oh. That's... weird."  
  
Justin sighed and pushed back his brush of curly locks. "It's Spanish commands. You can't expect them to learn a new a new language, Harry. They're just flies," he said in a tone Harry thought was condescending.  
  
"Right, well, is there anything less... alive and needing to crawl up my prick?" asked Harry.  
  
"Some blokes like it!" Justin announced, a little too loudly for Harry's sanity. Now all he could think about was Justin Finch-Fletchley stuffing live bugs in his cock. If he'd been able to get an erection at all, that thought would keep him flaccid for life.   
  
"Yeeeahhhh... so... other options?" asked Harry as he turned around to look at the nice, soothing, fist-sized centaur prick. Somehow, that was a lot less scary than his conversation with Justin.   
  
"Measured that one myself, it's modeled on Firenze. He's really quite well hung, even for a centaur," said Justin.  
  
Harry covered his face. "Is there a potion or something I could take?"  
  
"Oh yeah. The Viagrus potion is the most powerful on the market. I keep it behind the counter here and have to register who all takes it, just so that St. Mungo's will know before treating anyone for priapism-- when your dick is hard and won't stop? It's amazing how many blokes won't admit to taking a potion and what they'll endure to avoid admitting it. That said, I'll keep your name off of the list unless you encounter a problem."  
  
Justin offered the little blue phial to Harry, who examined it curiously. "Take all of it?"  
  
"That'll get you in St. Mungo's begging to have your prick removed. Just a few drops'll do ya. There are instructions on the box," said Justin as he started writing the sale down in his ledger.   
  
"Yeah, all right. I'll give it a shot," said Harry, pulling money from his pocket.   
  
That bloody date had better be fucking fantastic.  
  
\--  
  
As a test-- strictly as a test, mind you-- Harry decided he should try out the Viagrus potion the next morning before work. While he'd have a difficult time explaining his priapism to his coworkers if he overdid it, he thought it best to at least try it before he went on his date. He wasn't at all anxious to wank. Not at all. He was not that kind of boy.  
  
For once in his life, he read the instructions carefully and followed them as precisely as one of Snape's potions assignments. He measured the drops out carefully and let them melt on his tongue. Then he took a shower, toying with himself gently at first, getting progressively rougher as he became frustrated that this didn't seem to be working.   
  
He looked down his dripping wet body, at the water spattering over his still pale prick as he pulled uselessly at it. He tried to imagine it was Draco's prick and even reached around with his other hand, raising one foot on the side of the bath to part him so he could work a finger into himself.   
  
Wriggling his digit around, he found a certain spot that actually felt not so bad or awkward and pressed it, figuring that this was that legendary prostate everyone raved about. Well, not everyone. Some people. Girls didn't seem to talk about it much at all.   
  
As good as it felt, he was still getting no interest from his cock.   
  
Sighing, he let go of his prick and pulled his finger from himself, deciding to wash his hands extra thoroughly, venting his frustration in the scrubbing. There had to be a way to get hard and there had to be a reason for this, not that he could even begin to fathom what that reason might be.   
  
For a moment, he wondered if Draco wasn't doing this, but then, why would he? It made no real sense so he shook that thought away and decided that he'd have to go back to the shop. Loath as he was to talk to creepy Justin again, his business did involve dick, so maybe that was as close to an expert as he was going to get.  
  
\--  
  
After a long day at work feeling jumpy that someone would know that potion was in his pocket, Harry was more than ready to go to the shop. Draco had been looking at him oddly on and off throughout the day, or at least, Harry thought Draco was giving him the stink eye. It might've been something else. He did look a bit curious and worried more than irritated, but Harry was still suspicious that Draco might be hexing him. So, he avoided him most of the day-- partnering up with Tonks to deal with Aberforth's missing sheep (at least he'd moved on from goats).  
  
He walked to the store slowly, pondering what he was going to do. No doubt Justin would try to sell him on the Spanish flies, but Harry couldn't imagine that Draco would want a dick full of insects in his rectum. If he did, Harry didn't want to know about it. Still, it would be a good test as to whether Draco was actually behind this or not. Surely the mere idea of Harry going to such great lengths would make him end whatever spell he might have on him.  
  
Except that... he really couldn't quite bring himself to believe that Draco would curse him.   
  
Most of the time.  
  
He was just reaching for the door knob of the store when Luna Lovegood flounced out carrying a bag that was far too long and round for Harry's comfort. He tried desperately not to look at it, to stay focused on her face and concentrate very, very hard on imagining that it was French bread in that bag.  
  
"Oh hullo Harry!" she chirped, flinging her straggly blonde hair back to reveal her shining face.   
  
Harry wasn't sure he'd ever seen her look so happy. It ached inside to know what Ron thought of her. "Hullo, Luna," he said, wondering if his problems were really as bad as all of that. "Doing some shopping?"   
  
He really, really hated himself for asking. His mind was flooded with how kinky Ron said she was and the enormity of that centaur cock.  
  
"Oh, yeah. Justin's brilliant. Just buying something for a hen party," said Luna. She shook her bag and grinned.  
  
"Oh! Yes! A hen party! Great fun! Imagine that's a brilliant prank, then!" he said a little too loudly as he gestured to the bag, relieved it wasn't what he thought.  
  
"Yeah! And I bought a giant centaur cock for me!" she said, bouncing on her toes. "It was modeled on Firenze! He's so pretty!"  
  
He could Disapparate. He really,  _really_  wanted to, but it would be so terribly rude. Instead, his face flushed and he went into a coughing fit, choking on his own saliva. Too much information. FAAAAARRRRRR too much information.  
  
She whacked him on the back a few times and said, "All right, Harry?"  
  
He cleared his throat and took his glasses off to clean them, trying not to think of Giant. Centaur. Cock. Of. Doom. "Yeah. I expect I'll be fine. Just... went down the wrong way."  
  
"That happens to me a lot," said Luna and Harry wondered what  _exactly_  that meant, but decided for his own sanity to take it at face value.  
  
"So I guess you and Ron are having fun then?" he asked, not wanting to know, but then, he wasn't sure how else to carry on the conversation.  
  
At this, Luna sighed wistfully and shook her head. "Oh, dear, sweet Ronald. He's lovely and funny and I always wanted him, but... he's ever so vanilla, isn't he?"  
  
Harry was immediately relieved that Ron wouldn't be getting up to anything with the centaur cock, but then he felt a strange defensiveness for Ron's performance. "What? Well, I suppose he's got a routine he likes and..."  
  
"Yeah, I guess. Toys are fun too, though, and they don't brood about Hermione or cry after," she said, looking sad for a moment. "Poor man. I shouldn't have said that about him being vanilla."  
  
"It's all right. I won't tell," said Harry, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder. She didn't look pained, exactly, just sympathetic. Strangely, he felt better that at least no one's heart was being broken. Just because he had trouble separating love and sex didn't mean everyone did.   
  
Luna smiled and sparkled at him. "So, you and Malfoy getting a bit kinky, are you?"  
  
Harry looked up at her and up at the name of the shop and swallowed. "Erm..."  
  
"It's all right, Harry. I won't say a word. I'm hardly in a position to judge," she said, rattling her bag.  
  
"Yeah, well..." said Harry, shifting uncomfortably.  
  
"Oh, Harry, is someone having trouble getting it up?" Sometimes, he hated how intuitive she could be. He flushed.   
  
"You?" asked Luna, her eyes wide as she looked over him curiously.   
  
He scrubbed his hand through his hair, which wasn't an answer, but he was totally at a loss for words and starting to think about making a break for it.   
  
"The Viagrus potion works like a charm. Don't let Justin talk you into those flies. Firstly, they don't work, and secondly..." Luna shuddered. "You don't want bugs crawling around there or anywhere!"  
  
Harry had to laugh and looked up to the sky, just shaking his head. It felt good to laugh, really, and what else could he do?   
  
"It didn't work?" she asked, and Harry was both grateful and humiliated that she knew and that he was that easily read.   
  
He shook his head and looked down.  
  
"Well then, you're hexed, Harry. If it were at all physical or mental, the potion would've worked. You've an enemy out there somewhere that wants to keep you down... so to speak," she said, grabbing him by the elbow to turn him around from the shop. "Don't let Justin sell you anything more. He could've told you that after a simple spell. He's just trying to sell things."  
  
"What?" asked Harry, his mind reeling. There was only one person he could think of that would do that, and it was Draco, but he couldn't imagine  _why_.  
  
"Come on. You can come over and we can talk about it," said Luna.  
  
Harry was far too shaken for company, however, so he shook his head, his breath leaving him. "No. I think... I think I'd like to think about this alone, if you don't mind."  
  
She leaned in and kissed his cheek. "I don't mind, Harry. Just let me know what comes up."  
  
Harry was tempted to say that he didn't think anything was coming up any time soon, but he let it go. "All right. I'll see you around. And thanks."  
  
After she nodded and turned away, Harry Apparated home.  
  
\--  
  
There were several moments when Harry thought about calling it off. How could he possibly go on a date with Draco if he couldn't get it up? Yet, he'd hedged his bets with his handy excuse of chastity. Besides, every time he looked up at Draco, particularly when Draco was not looking at him, but was quietly sucking the end of his quill in thought or giving someone else a severe look for whatever social infraction they'd committed, something twisted in Harry's chest. He just couldn't bear to be away from Draco any longer than necessary.   
  
Harry needed to do this. Needed to get over this hurdle and get back in the game before someone else got in the game. He'd been pondering that Friday afternoon, particularly when he saw Draco chattering into his mirror. Nott. Right. He needed to get back in this.  
  
After Draco put the mirror away and he'd gotten up to head out for lunch, Harry stood in front of him, trying not to look like he was accusing him of anything.   
  
"Potter," said Draco, his voice terse, expression trying to be brave.  
  
Seeing some anxiety in Draco's expression again, Harry realized he really hadn't said much to Draco, and maybe he thought that Harry was going to call it off. "I just wanted to tell you to dress in formal wizard style tomorrow night," said Harry, feeling a bit flustered and on the spot.   
  
Raising a brow, Draco looked at him curiously. "There aren't any galas, are there? Not many places one can go dressed up like that," he said.   
  
Harry could see Draco working it out. Obviously there were private parties held with purebloods, but Harry wasn't likely to be invited to any of those. Before Draco could get to the obvious conclusion, Harry decided to just spill it. "We're going to Charmings, so..."  
  
" _Charmings_? Really?" asked Draco, his eyes wide and face flushed with obvious delight. "I haven't been there since..." his expression darkened and he looked momentarily sad, but then he met Harry's eyes again.  
  
If Harry didn't know any better, he'd think that Draco looked a bit weepy, which made Harry feel a bit giddy. He seemed to get what a big deal it was for Harry to go to such a place.   
  
"All right, Harry," said Draco, grinning like a schoolgirl with  _you're going to be fucked silly_  in his eyes. "I'll be dressed and ready at eight."  
  
Harry nodded and wanted to lean in for a kiss, but they were in the middle of the bullpen and while no one even pretended that he and Draco weren't a thing, it just wasn't professional. So, he shook his hand, which made Draco laugh and roll his eyes.   
  
Draco smiled again and then passed him, slipping a hand out ninja-speed to slap Harry's rear. "Sounds like you're well on your way to making it a bloody fantastic date," Draco said before practically skipping out.  
  
Grinning, Harry watched him go and closed his eyes. He hoped so.  
  
\--  
  
Charmings had all of the charm of the Slytherin dungeons, as far as Harry was concerned. It was, in fact, underground, as many of the old Wizarding buildings tended to be. However, unlike the eerie green of Slytherin, Charmings was all polished dark wood, brass and red velvet curtains. The walls were made of stone and held large ever-burning torches, which made it seem medieval, but then the china and crystal brought it all up-to-date.   
  
There were several rooms to the restaurant, all of which included a perimeter of private booths with the long, red velvet curtains that were charmed to keep anything and everything that went on in the private booth private. While this was reassuring for those who needed secrets kept, it led to a very strange entry into the restaurant. Harry was expecting to hear murmured conversation and the clatter of dishes and crystal, but instead, he heard nothing but the occasional swish of fabric and the footfalls of their host.  
  
Once they were seated and handed their menus, Harry leaned in and whispered-- because it only seemed appropriate to whisper-- to Draco, "This is really weird. Are you sure there's anyone here?"  
  
"Does it matter if anyone's here, Harry? The point is good food and unobtrusiveness," he said as he tapped his finger over the menu.  
  
"I didn't even see any wait staff!" Harry protested.  
  
"That's because there isn't any." Draco explained that they would tap their wands to the menu item that they wanted by demonstrating. He went on to talk about how the sommelier charms would handle the wine and that magic chefs would handle the food and send it out to them. "This is where every secret cabal ever started, Harry. There are so many stories here... Granger probably knows... knew... knows? Whatever. The point is, this is a really brilliant place. After my father was imprisoned... well, there just wasn't much reason to come here, I guess."  
  
Draco looked radiant in starry night blue robes, his face lit up as he looked around the booth, seeming to relive some past fond memory.  
  
Harry could do little other than watch the play of emotions and memories on Draco's face. He reached across the dark table and took his hand and Draco squeezed back. "I'm surprised you'd bring me here. This is probably where the Death Eaters started. Probably where..."  
  
"Yeah," said Harry carefully. "But that's not what it is anymore, or not what it should be. Maybe it needs to be reclaimed. New memories made."  
  
For a moment, Draco looked at Harry wearily, as if he didn't believe that things could change, but then he cracked a smile and said, "I guess if they let you in, things are changing. Unless they plan to kill you."  
  
Harry's eyes widened as he felt paranoia welling up. First his cock goes flaccid and then murder? This was not a hero's death!  
  
"Oh, Harry." Draco laughed, but Harry didn't think it was terribly funny. "I forget you really don't know a lot of things. There's a Sanctuary spell here. No one can kill anyone on the premises. No one's ever died here, and no one will. As for half-bloods? They let Tom Riddle in, right? Don't worry about it. I was just teasing you."   
  
With a sudden pop, the wine arrived, causing Harry to all but jump out of his skin. Draco gave him a sympathetic look and then switched from across from Harry to his side of the booth, offering to protect him.   
  
At that, Harry finally laughed, relieved that the tension had broken and pleased that Draco had slipped an arm around him.   
  
The rest of dinner had gone as easily and as quickly as rolling downhill. They talked about work, about old school times and Harry was surprised by how much Draco really could talk, that his perspectives on their coworkers weren't that different than Harry's own. The more they talked, the more Harry realized that he and Draco really hadn't spent much time just chatting and maybe there was something to be said for taking things slowly.  
  
The check arrived, flying in as an origami swan, unraveling itself in front of Harry. There was something strangely familiar about origami swans, like an echo of some unreality of something that hadn't happened before and yet, Harry remembered it. Weird.   
  
He paid in Galleons he'd procured from Gringotts, since he didn't regularly carry that much coin on him and then Apparated them back within a few blocks of Draco's flat. He wanted to spend more time with him without the pressure of having to go to bed with him, since in spite of how beautiful he thought Draco was the whole night; he hadn't felt any stir from his prick. Not even with how much Draco had been rubbing his knee.  
  
They walked in silence, just holding hands. London was a bit ripe, and the air had a bit of a damp cold edge to it, but as far as Harry was concerned, it was the most beautiful, perfect night he'd ever experienced. He squeezed Draco's hand a few times as they walked the last block to his flat and then Harry stood in shamed silence before the building, looking anxiously up at Draco's window.  
  
"How serious were you about that celibacy thing?" asked Draco. He was leering and Harry was normally weak at the knees from his leer, but now he just felt flaily and helpless.  
  
"Rather serious, I'm afraid," said Harry.  
  
Draco looked pointedly at the front of Harry's trousers and it was obvious he expected to see an erection tenting it. When he didn't, his head tilted and he looked at Harry with hurt confusion. "Oh," he said, averting his eyes.  
  
"It's not you, it's..." said Harry, feeling like he should explain.  
  
"It's all right. I mean, it was just walking. I mean... right. You didn't... when I was rubbing you at Charmings so I guess it was sort of silly to think that..." said Draco, mock laughing at himself, or at the situation. Harry didn't really know what Draco was laughing at, because it wasn't funny and it sounded so pained.   
  
"Draco," said Harry, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder.   
  
Draco grabbed him and yanked him closer, pulling him into a fiercely possessive kiss. His hands were immediately everywhere, pawing at him through his green robes, rubbing his prick, tongue fucking him, probing, tasting, then pulling his tongue into Draco's mouth to suck at it.   
  
It still felt good, and it took Harry's breath away, but he just wasn't getting hard, no matter how hard or soft Draco grabbed him, not even when he pulled him inside and threw him into the lift. Draco rutted against him as the floors dinged by, frenzied and determined.  
  
Harry knew he should put a stop to this, that he should at least pause Draco long enough to tell him what was going on, that it wasn't his fault, but selfishly, he was loving the attention, loving the desperation and the need. Draco was such an island unto himself that watching him come unglued with passion like this felt almost rare.   
  
He dragged Harry down the hall when the doors rolled open. His wand was out and they were through the door in seconds. Harry skidded through the living area and fell into Draco's bed, Draco on top of him, rubbing his erection against him. It stabbed into Harry's hip and all he could do was gasp at the feel of it, to moan and whimper as Draco bit and sucked and kissed at his neck.  
  
Moving back against him was instinctive; helping Draco out of his robes as he shrugged out of his own was what he wanted. He was mentally aroused but his body just wouldn't cooperate and he could feel Draco growing more and more anxious. His mouth was around Harry's cock, sucking and pulling and it felt so dirty, so naughty that he'd be letting Draco do this, knowing there was no hope that he'd get hard, yet it still felt exquisite. Not as good as it might've felt, but still brilliant.   
  
Mostly, Harry felt incredibly vulnerable, like he was letting Draco see the part of him that wasn't perfect. Draco had often pointed out Harry's imperfections to him with glee, but this was different. Draco was seeing his imperfection and trying to fix it, trying to make it better, make it right, make him function as he should be.  
  
His prick twitched at that thought, or maybe it was that Draco had lowered his head to suck his balls. Harry let his legs fall open, letting Draco have his complete way with him. His head moved lower and lower until Draco sucked at his perineum, giving Harry the sensation he had when Draco had found that spot inside of him that felt so good, but this time without the pain of stretch.  
  
Harry gasped and unabashedly shoved his arse into Draco's face, demanding more of that sensation. If he was going to get hard, that would've done it. If not, well, it still felt brilliant.   
  
Then Draco's tongue went  _there_.  
  
The tip of it circled the rim and Harry all but pushed off of the bed. It was so completely and devilishly naughty that he blushed bodily. Draco's tongue flattened over the area, lapping slowly, swirling his tongue over and over him, reminding him of when Draco had come to live with him briefly at Grimmauld Place, when they'd declared their own Order, when...   
  
Harry's train of thought derailed when Draco's tongue breached him, darting just inside of the rim at first, till it drove deeper and deeper.  
  
He was being fucked. Fucked by Draco's tongue again. He grabbed his cock, pulling at it, willing it to respond, because the very fact that it wasn't when something that felt this good was going on was a tragedy.  
  
Draco slipped a finger inside of him and sat up between Harry's legs, gazing down at him until he saw his hand on his cock. At that, Draco stopped abruptly and sighed sadly. "This isn't doing it for you, is it?"  
  
"It feels really good," said Harry. "It's just that..."  
  
"Does my moving in with you really mean that much to you?" asked Draco, sounding like he was breaking.  
  
Harry saw the advantage to not correcting Draco's miss-thought, but he just couldn't do it that way. Manipulative as he wanted to be sometimes, it just wasn't right. Besides, it wasn't like he was going to get hard if Draco agreed to live with him. "It does, but listen," said Harry, sighing slowly. He was going to have to admit this and hopefully Draco would be sympathetic. "I'm cursed. I can't... get it up because... someone hexed me."  
  
"What?"  
  
"I don't know who, but I went to Justin Finch-Fletchley's shop and..." Harry started, pushing back against Draco's finger, wanting him to keep doing that. If he couldn't get off tonight, why not let Draco? Besides, it felt good when he rubbed his finger just so.  
  
"You didn't buy any of those flies, did you? Because... ew," said Draco. His expression was uncertain, but he added a second finger, finding that spot easily.  
  
"No. But I did take the Viagrus potion..." Harry hissed at the sting, but found himself enjoying the sensation. Even the slight pain felt good, cleansing in a way.  
  
"And still no...?" asked Draco.  
  
Harry nodded.   
  
Draco closed his eyes, looking very stoic for a moment and Harry thought that he was going to throw him out, tell him to leave and find out who hexed him. But instead, he seemed to be cast in blue light, his skin growing paler, his eyes opening to reveal that feral silver color. He knocked Harry's hand away from his own prick, his hands looking slightly longer.  
  
It was as if something electric had hit Harry's cock, at first jolting it to the point of pain, then filling it with warmth and he felt himself getting hard at Draco's touch.   
  
Veela magic. Of course.  
  
Harry was still only half hard, even being stroked as well as he was, even with Draco looking ghastly and more bird-like than he'd ever seen him.   
  
"I'm going to have to fuck you to break it," said Draco, his voice almost a chirrup.   
  
After a beat to consider bottoming for the sake of breaking a spell, Harry spread his legs out further and reached into Draco's nightstand for lubricant. "Considering the number of times you've done this to save others, I should at least be willing to do it to save myself."  
  
Draco smiled and sat back as Harry wrapped his greased hands over Draco's cock. "You've bottomed for the sake of magic before. You did it to save me, or at least to wake me."  
  
"This time you're fully awake at the start, if not fully yourself," he said, positioning Draco at his opening. Harry brought one leg up, hooking his knee over Draco's shoulder. Harry controlled how quickly Draco entered him with that leg, not wanting to let him in too deeply, not wanting it to hurt.   
  
He used his leg to leverage the tip of Draco's prick against that spot. Filled with Draco and Draco's magic, his cock continued to plump and Harry focused on how it felt, rather than the sensation of something sliding in and out of him. He was sweating from the stretch, from Draco's cock sliding deep inside of him only to pull back out. It burned his skin and thrilled him beyond anything he'd ever felt.   
  
It was Draco inside of him, his magic working its will in Harry's body-- working against this hex.   
  
All Harry could do was stare at him, look at the way Draco seemed to sweat silver, the way it glistened on his forehead, collected down the side of his face.   
  
Draco kept pulling his cock, dipping in for kisses, opening his quicksilver eyes when he could stare down at Harry. He was still Draco, even if he was part magical. This was always part of Draco, what powered him. It was amazing to have direct contact with the beast in Draco, as he was getting part of him that no one else ever saw, that nearly no one was even aware of.   
  
"I love you," Harry whispered. "I love all of you. Even the parts you don't think I want to see. I love all of you."   
  
Draco had been moving in and out of him, bypassing the stops Harry had used to keep him from getting too deep. He went a little wild at Harry's utterance, grabbing Harry's throat with his teeth for a hard bite as he moved erratically in and out of him, too fast for it to do anything but collect the twin sensations of stretch and thrill, to feel it build in Harry's groin.  
  
His hand was too slick, moved too fast. Harry was collected up, trapped in this Veela web of adoration, of sensation from all of these unfamiliar places being touched and feeling so vulnerable while Draco exposed his hidden self to Harry. It was all too much after he heard Draco shudder and shout his name.  
  
Soon Harry felt the tell-tale wetness, heard the slurping of wetness gushing back out of him and Harry let go himself, coming against his chest and onto Draco's hand. He wailed when he came, having built up for so long. He clutched Draco tightly, hating himself for denying himself this, for denying Draco this out of his stupidity and frailty. Most of all, he hated himself for thinking that Draco had any part in the hex.   
  
"I'm sorry," Harry whispered when he could speak again.  
  
Draco rolled off of him, throwing a few tissues over his shoulder as he cleaned himself up.  
  
It was unusual for Draco to move away immediately and Harry told himself it was because he was changing back to human and didn't want Harry to see.   
  
That theory proved out when Draco turned back around, looking more like himself. He stood to pull the covers back and slipped in under them.   
  
"What are you sorry for?" asked Draco.  
  
"For not telling you I was hexed right away," said Harry, hoping he wouldn't have to explain the rest of it.  
  
"It's an embarrassing problem, yeah? I don't know what I would've done... not that it can happen to me. I think I broke it, but that doesn't mean that whatever git put it on you won't cast it again. That's fine with me, of course, I can break it and get to shag you, but we might want to sort out who's doing it," said Draco as he held the covers up for Harry.  
  
Harry hadn't wanted to hope that he'd be invited into bed with Draco, but he could hardly help it. Now that he was, it was such a relief that Harry melted under the covers and grabbed onto Draco tightly. He could still feel him inside of him, the soreness of the invasion. He hoped he'd feel it when he woke up. "Yeah, we should seek that guy out. But for now, just hold me?"  
  
Draco nodded and wound his arms around Harry. "We'll save cock boggart hunting for the next date."  
  
Though he was knackered, Harry managed a smile and a quick laugh. "I do take you to the nicest places, don't I?"  
  
Kissing the top of Harry's head, Draco laughed, too. "Doesn't matter where we go, as long as I'm with you."  
  
\--  
  
"What? But that's not faaaair!" Theodore wailed at the vision screen he'd been watching Draco's flat on. "How am I supposed to compete against magical creatures! The stupid spell doesn't..."   
  
He picked up the book  _Scorned: A Lover's Guide to Revenge_  and chucked it across the room.  
  
"You win that one, Potter," Theo said as Cassie, the mechanical Thestral, picked up the book with her Sepholite teeth and tenderly set it back on a shelf. "But the next time it won't be so easy. Draco Malfoy will be mine!" 


	16. Season Finale: Falling In Love (Again)

Draco sat at his dining table, mug of tea cooling, condensation swirling up out of the cup. His quill was poised over the parchment, gold key sitting next to it. He was forming the right words to write to Harry, words that he couldn't trust himself to express the right way aloud.   
  
As cocksure as he liked to appear to the world, he was pants at really putting himself out there and being vulnerable. Some people were terrified of needles, feared failure, disliked heights-- Draco was afraid of rejection.   
  
Harry hadn't given him any recent indication that he'd reject him. Quite the opposite, really, since he'd been nagging him about living with him. He still wasn't ready for that, but Draco wanted Harry to know that he was fully invested in this and that he did want him to be part of his life.   
  
He knew himself too well, though, and if he just handed the key to Harry, he'd quip at him and try to make light of it and Harry wouldn't fully grasp what he meant and things would get awkward again. This would give Harry something to look at, something tangible, something he could read and  _know_  what Draco felt and that they were on their way somewhere.  
  
 _Dear Harry,  
  
I want you to have this key to my flat. I've adjusted the wards to let you in. I do want you as part of my life. I want you to feel welcome here. I don't know what the future holds for us and I can't make any promises, but I do love you and I think this is meant to be. _  
  
Pausing there, Draco set his quill down and took a sip of tea, trying to think of what all else he wanted to say. He read over the lines several times, noting how often he'd used "I" and sighing, wondering if he should start over when the door chimed.   
  
Checking the clock, Draco noted Harry was half an hour early and frowned, deciding that this would have to do for his note, hoping it was enough, but figuring if Harry was going to be so presumptuous as to show up early, that he was going to have to live with what he got. He folded the parchment around the key, regretting that he didn't have time to package it up as nicely as he would've liked to, but maybe he should've started this the night before.   
  
He shoved the package in his pocket and headed to the door, trying not to look too nervous. They were going to have a picnic in the park and then a movie-- a Muggle sort of day together-- which Draco normally would've balked at, but since Harry had gone to Charmings, he figured he owed it to him. Draco wasn't going to admit that he did sort of like Muggle movies, at least not to Harry. Or anyone.  
  
The bell chimed again and Draco rolled his eyes. Harry really could be an impatient pest sometimes. He smiled to himself, finding it somewhat charming that he was that anxious to see him. He flicked his hair back and pulled open the door, brow perked.  
  
"You're early-- wait... Lockhart?" Draco's brows furrowed at the appearance of the lilac pirate dandy standing in a puffcloud of his own glitter-smoke, beaming at him. "What do  _you_ want?"  
  
The Dread Pirate Lockhart stood before him, his wand out and swishing before Draco could even reach his pocket. The lace flailed in the air as Draco's mind reeled with what the man wanted as he rocked back into his flat, determined that his wards wouldn't allow him to be kidnapped from his own home.  
  
But that wasn't what Lockhart wanted at all.  
  
Draco barely had time to feel the horror when he heard the spell.  
  
" _Obliviate_."  
  
Draco shrieked, slamming the door, but it was too late. The spell hit and Draco had no idea what he might've lost.   
  
\--  
  
Harry arrived at Draco's flat a few minutes early. He was in a pair of Muggle jeans, tightly fitted, and a blousy white t-shirt, trying to fit in. He'd spend the whole night wondering whether he should bring Draco flowers or not. After all, he was a boy, but then, they were flowers. He felt like he'd had this conversation with himself several times. Wine was the thing now, wasn't it? Only it was an afternoon picnic and should he... By the time he'd not!sorted it out, he was in the lift up to Draco's flat. His cock was already getting hard. One of the other occupants of the lift noticed and gave Harry a wink. Another gestured that he'd give him his phone number.   
  
At least he was looking hot, if these Muggles wanted him. They had no idea he was a hero and that gave him a little ego boost that he needed. He gave them a little extra arse wriggle on his way out of the lift when the doors rolled open and then fluffed his hair. If he looked that good, why not? The women giggled and carried on their way as Harry strutted to Malfoy's door.  
  
Harry still didn't see the problem with Draco living with him, it certainly saved everyone a commute when getting to the hot sexing, but he was sure that if he ever put it that way in front of Draco that he'd be in Big Trouble.   
  
As it was, Draco opened the door looking terribly confused and dressed like a Muggle, which seemed to add something surreal to the picture.   
  
"Potter? What the shit are you doing here?" he asked, not offering Harry a way in.  
  
Taking it as a playful challenge, Harry rocked up on his toes. "I managed quiche... sort of... and then I'm going to bugger you senseless behind the bushes at the park. Then, I thought after that, we'll go see a movie where I'll suck you off in the dark. Sound like a plan?"   
  
Draco glared at him, and then sneered at his hamper while he took a few steps back. Harry missed the expression of wary indulgence and took the movement as an invitation in and walked in.   
  
Draco stared at him as if he'd just farted. "Well come on in like you own the place, Potter."   
  
That comment sent Harry to a loss. Was Draco really going to try to enforce boundaries right now? It didn't seem fair for Draco to pull this when they were having their second date and doing something  _Harry_  wanted to do, but then, that was just like Draco, wasn't it?   
  
"Maybe someday I will," Harry retorted, turning around to face the door.   
  
"Are you here on Ministry business? Because it looks an awful lot like you're having a picnic. With whom, I wonder... Maybe your  _Wheezy_?"  
  
Draco's smile was too smirky and too angry for this to be a game. Something was wrong with Draco.   
  
"No, Draco, I'm here to take you out for a picnic as we agreed to last week," he said simply, but sternly, wondering what Draco was playing at.  
  
"What are you playing at? 'Agreed to last week?'" asked Draco. "I've barely spoken to you, Potter. I've barely been back in London that long! I didn't agree to anything with you!"  
  
Reaching into the hamper, Harry pulled out a small jug of pumpkin juice to show Draco, as if somehow that would prove he knew Draco well enough to know that he would want pumpkin juice. Not that it made much sense, but nothing really was. "I made you pumpkin juice, freshly squeezed!"  
  
"That's poisoned, no doubt," said Draco, eyeing it with suspicion.  
  
"Of course it isn't. I just... see, I know you like pumpkin juice," said Harry, trying not to be offended that Draco would think he wanted to poison him. Draco was obviously frustrated and confused, but it still hurt a bit.  
  
"That's hardly original. A wizard who likes pumpkin juice! Who'd've thought of that one?" said Draco, his hands waving irritably. "It's not exactly personal, like my middle name."  
  
Setting the hamper and thermos on the ledge of the half-wall entry way inside Draco's flat, Harry said, "Abraxas."  
  
Draco eyed him and then tilted his chin up, sneering. "Or the name of my first pet."  
  
"Ophelia," Harry answered, holding his stare.  
  
"Or what kind of..."  
  
"A wounded dove you found outside and you never had another pet after that aside from your owl who was more of a messenger than anything else," said Harry.  
  
"PFFT!" said Draco before raking his hand through his hair.  
  
Harry stared at Draco for a long time, waiting for him to balk, waiting for him to break character and laugh and say this was all a joke. But he didn't. They were left standing there staring at one another and Draco's eyes were dead of recognition but full of an angry confusion, edging in on frustration.   
  
"You really don't remember... anything about..."  _me_  "your personal life, Draco?"  
  
"I know you. I know I'm dating Kirley Duke. I know that I'm an Auror. I know that you and I have shagged a few times." He blushed at that and looked down and away and Harry thought it was terribly endearing. He reached out to stroke the side of Draco's face, but Draco recoiled.  
  
"But we're... this is our second date, Draco," said Harry as easily as he could given that his heart had stopped and now he was running on pure adrenaline, hoping beyond hope that this was just a weird dream.  
  
Furrowing his brows, he gave Harry a suspicious look, eyes in slits, curious. "I've  _never_  been on a date with you, Potter. Unless you're counting what we do at work for dating, but that's rather demented, don't you think?"   
  
At least Draco wasn't fleeing in terror that Harry might bugger him, but this problem seemed to be so much bigger than just shagging.  
  
He grabbed Draco's arm and steered him to the dining table behind the half wall and sat him down. Flipping open the hamper, he set out the quiche and thermoses and cheeses that Harry had brought to delight Draco on the picnic. Now he wished he'd thrown some firewhiskey in as well. Alas.   
  
"Do you remember anything that happened recently?" asked Harry.  
  
Draco made a face and then shrugged. "The last thing I remember is that Lockhart was at the door. I guess he mucked with my memory." He didn't look quite like he believed it yet, but as if things might make a bit more sense if that were true.  
  
"Can't think of another reason for Lockhart to drop by, can you?" Harry asked as he got up to stand behind Draco to rub his temples. He didn't think that would work, but maybe it would jostle something loose. He had to at least try.   
  
"I'm hot?"  
  
Harry laughed. "Well, yes, there's that, but something tells me if that's the reason he stopped by, he would've taken his time about it. And if he'd've touched you, I would've killed him," said Harry, a little surprised that came out. Not that he would contradict it, but he hadn't meant to say it out loud.   
  
"Oh Potter, I have better taste than that! He could be my father!" said Draco, nudging into the rubs.  
  
"Not quite your father, but... right, obviously you were to forget something and since you don't remember that we were going on a picnic, we should talk about our relationship, see what you remember about that," said Harry as he took his seat next to Draco at the table.  
  
" _Relationship_? A couple of on the job shags in the line of duty does not a relationship make." Draco sat forward, his expression petulant.  
  
"I hate it when you talk backwards like Yoda," said Harry, leaning in to face him just as certainly. "Yes. You and I. After we closed down the Yakuza in Japan," said Harry patiently. "We were going to give it a go."  
  
"I don't know any 'Yoda', was he a Hufflepuff?" asked Draco, looking around his flat. "So... you know about... Japan and the... what about Kirley?"  
  
"Haven't heard from him lately. He did get cut up pretty badly. I think he's in Norway. They're trying to fix it there." This was hard already. He didn't know how much Draco remembered, but he didn't seem shocked that they'd had sex, so perhaps there was hope.   
  
"Norway?" asked Draco.   
  
"Yes, Norway has the finest team on breaking irreversible curses on the planet. He's making good progress I hear," said Harry, saddened that he was relating this news to Draco since the only reason he knew in the first place was because Draco told him..   
  
Draco's body tensed under Harry's ministrations and Harry could tell that he wasn't taking any of this news very well. He was at a loss to tell him any different.   
  
"It's what you told me," Harry protested.   
  
"Who cut him, then? Was it you?" asked Draco. He looked up at Harry and though Harry knew that the accusation in his eyes was due to his loss of memory, it was getting to be far too much for Harry to deal with.   
  
"No, it was Mifune," said Harry. He pulled his hands away and shoved them into his pockets. All of this left him horridly sad. As much as he thought maybe he should stay and try to explain things to Draco, he wasn't sure he could deal with it. Plus, the longer he delayed, the further away Gilderoy Lockhart could be. Not that he had even one clue on how to locate him or what Lockhart could do now that Draco's memory was gone, but Harry at least had to know why.  
  
"Look, I'm... I'm going to go try to find Lockhart. You should stay here," said Harry, crossing to the other side of the table, ready to head for the door.  
  
Draco jumped up, his hand already in his pocket, presumably reaching for his wand, but what he withdrew instead was a folded piece of parchment with Harry's name on it.  
  
Quick as a flash, Harry snatched the parchment from Draco's hand, recognizing the writing and desperate for word from Draco. His Draco. The Draco who he thought loved him and not this one he would have to start over with again.   
  
The package was oddly lumpy and his breath caught as he opened it, finding the gold key. He clutched it so tightly in his palm that it broke the skin, his other hand shaking as he held the note, reading it over and over again, feeling like his eyes might well up.   
  
He didn't even notice that Draco had sidled up next to him to read the letter until Draco said, "That's my handwriting. It... I..."  
  
Harry looked up at him, scanning from eye to eye for some glimpse of love or recognition in Draco's eyes, but all he saw was confusion and fear at first. Then he saw something flicker behind Draco's eyes. It wasn't memory, but it was a thought, space. Room for Harry, that space that he'd exploited before and would either have to fix or find again.   
  
"It was meant to be, Draco, and I'll prove it to you somehow," said Harry. He jammed the key and note into his pocket and grabbed Draco's face, hands cupping his cheeks as he brought him in to kiss him deeply, feeling the brush of his lips and the late sweet taste of tea. Draco whimpered into his mouth, responding with light, curious flicks of his tongue. Harry held him tightly, wrapping his arms around him to hug him closer, possessively.  _Mine_.   
  
Then Harry pushed Draco back by the shoulders, feeling bolder, more assured that he could do this, that this would be fixed and set to rights. "You will wait here for me. I will figure something out. This was meant to be, Draco. I'll start over a thousand times with you if I have to, just as long as I'm with you, it'll be all right."   
  
Draco still looked confused, but longing now and Harry released his shoulders. Harry headed to the door, pausing to look at him once more before trudging out to start casting locator spells.   
  
Pirate or not, Harry would find Lockhart.  
  
\--  
  
For a long while, Draco just stared at the door, remembering what Harry looked like walking out of it. The memories were no nearer to coming back than they had been a moment ago, but it all seemed so possible. So suddenly  _probable_.  
  
Draco had never given much thought to his rivalry with Harry, not really. He'd always chalked it up to competitiveness. He'd come to Hogwarts full of the idea that everyone would find him as perfect and special as his parents thought he was. In fact, meeting with the other Slytherin boys he'd known before had seemed to support that. Weasley wasn't impressed with him, but he never much cared about that. He'd never really been refused anything, or really been intimidated by anyone his age.  
  
But then there was Potter, and Potter wasn't scared of him or his father. He didn't even seem to know who he was.   
  
But all of this was history that he knew. He still checked over it, though, like you check over your back molars, feeling them to make sure they're there, and in their proper order after you've been punched in the jaw. Rivalry. But then, that rivalry didn't seem to matter much when his family was on the line, when he thought he was going to die. It didn't matter when he went to Japan or when he returned other than it gave a familiar rhythm to their interaction. At least, at first.  
  
Brushing his fingers over his lips, Draco thought about what it was like to be kissed by Harry Potter. The need, the intensity. He was kissed by the boy who had spent hundreds of lonely nights in a cupboard, who needed to be loved with the fierce intensity of a man who has seen the end of the world and pushed it back, with the need of a boy who grew up without parents, without love, and yet somehow had so much in his heart that he needed to give, so much he needed back.   
  
Draco found himself swept away and wondered if it had been this dizzying after the first time.   
  
Because now, he really did believe he'd been in love with Harry. He could feel it down to his toes, which were still tingling from the kiss. His whole body had responded to it, was set on edge by the closeness. Harry's scent still lingered in the air, boyish and yet manly-- the boy he knew but so much more than that now, because they'd been  _seen_  and now they knew how little it mattered who played Quidditch first.   
  
Weak-kneed, Draco flopped down into the chair by the table again, flicking his hair back before reaching into his robe for his mirror. He wasn't entirely sure what Harry was up to, but he bet that Harry didn't much know where to start. Harry didn't have connections like Draco did, and if anyone would know where Gilderoy Lockhart was, it would be Theodore Nott, Information Tradesman.   
  
He flipped open the mirror and smiled into it. "Theodore? You said if I ever needed a favor... Are you quite all right?"  
  
Draco heard sniffling and worried that Theo was coming down with something, but Theo didn't let him see his face. He heard the incantation to close one of Theo's screens on which he often watched people, but Theo's face did not show in his mirror. "Oh, Draco," said Theo wearily.  
  
"Theo, do you need help? Are you all right?" asked Draco, setting aside his issues for the moment.  
  
"Oh, Draco, Draco, Draco," he said, his voice Byronic and melodramatic as it ever was, but tinged with a much deeper sadness than Draco had heard from him. "I have wronged you."  
  
He scanned his mind for what it was Theo could've done, but it wasn't any good when he couldn't remember about the past few months. "Right, well, I... that's the thing. I'm sure you were a Very Bad Boy and should be Punished, but right now I have sort of... well," Draco laughed nervously, "I don't really remember what you've done so let's just call it even for now, yeah?"  
  
The other end of the mirror sobbed quietly, then moaned. He heard another long sniff and then heard, "Oh no, oh no, oh no, what have I done?"   
  
Draco experienced that moment of breathless realization, of something so simply true, but so wrong that his mind rebelled, not wanting to believe it. Theo was his best mate in school, had been since he'd been marked and Draco saw just how completely useless Crabbe and Goyle were. He'd helped him along the way; at least, that's what he remembered. "What _have_  you done, Theo?" asked Draco.   
  
"Draco... Draco, Draco, Draco... why couldn't you have... you just... you never really saw me, did you? I wanted you so much and for so long and we... you... but you don't remember that, do you? I just... I had a mad moment, I wanted... I just wanted you to think about me. I wanted a chance," groused Theo. Draco heard a bottle hit the table and then the hiss of flame followed by an inhalation. He could practically smell the sweet smoke from Theo's calming herbs.  
  
Theo was clever, he was a genius, in fact, but all of that knowledge had always seemed to torment him. Draco knew why Theo smoked, he knew that was how he coped with what life had thrown at him, but right now he really wanted to wring his neck through the mirrors to get a straight, non-addled answer out of him. "No, Theo, I do not remember a lot of things, evidently. Do you happen to know why?" Draco asked, his voice stern and tight.  
  
There was another sob and Theo moaned, "Forgive me?"  
  
"But why?" Draco wailed, bringing his hands up to cover his face. He was shaking all over, his body covered in a cold sweat. He wanted to be ill, but more than that, he wanted the answer to the question-- even if he thought he'd heard it already.  
  
"I thought... I think so many mad things sometimes, you know," said Theo. Draco nodded, but as he couldn't see Theo, Theo couldn't see him. "I thought if you forgot about him, that you'd want me. I wanted you. I just wanted you to want me. Oh don't hate me, Draco!"   
  
Draco's fingers curled forward and he balled his fists into his eyes, trying not to cry in frustration. He wanted to shriek and ask Theo how he could do such a thing, but he couldn't even form the words. He heard Theo sobbing again, the moving of bottle from the table, absinthe unless Theo's tastes had changed radically. "Where is Lockhart?" asked Draco when he finally gathered his wits back together.  
  
"That fool couldn't tell you a thing about it. He knows how to steal but he doesn't know how to return," said Theo, his voice wavering and speech slurred.  
  
Draco knew he was miserable but he had no desire to reach out to him to comfort him, but Theo didn't seem to expect that anyway. "Then how do I fix this?"  
  
"I..." Theo exhaled and Draco heard the pipe clatter to the floor, shattering like his hopes. "I don't know. I'm sorry, Draco. I... I truly am. I don't know how... I can set up a research--"   
  
Slamming the mirror closed, Draco cut off the conversation.   
  
Theo didn't know.   
  
Theo knew everything and he didn't know this, which meant it was most likely impossible. Draco grabbed the mirror and threw it across the room in frustration and glared that the mirror didn't even have the common sense to break.  
  
After a beat, he stood and headed to the door. No sense in Harry finding Lockhart if it wasn't going to do much good anyway. He didn't know what he'd do after finding him. All he did know was that he needed to be near Harry and he needed to sort this out.  
  
\--  
  
As he Apparated to the Ministry, Draco realized that if Harry had managed to locate Lockhart, he probably wouldn't have told anyone where he was going and most likely would throttle the man before he even got any answers. He started to get anxious that he might well be too late as he swiftly dashed through the corridors, robes billowing in a way that would've made Snape envious.   
  
He had no idea what he'd say to Harry about the whole thing, he hadn't sorted it all out in his own head yet. He was angry, hurt and frustrated and yet, hearing Theo  _crying_... Draco was a Slytherin, but he was far from heartless. Theo was brilliant, but mad, and Draco knew that, knew that Theo probably looked at the problem on paper and thought this was the most logical conclusion, but something in him wailed because he couldn't remember what all had transpired between he and Harry.  
  
Even though Draco should have no way of knowing what it was he felt before, he had the feeling that it was immense and passionate. It had to be. They were both such big personalities and if he'd somehow managed to set aside their past, if they'd just ignored it all... and yet, what was there to ignore, really? In the grand scheme of his life, people had done worse to him that Harry had. Even at his worst, Harry's attempt on his life had turned out to be accidental, unlike Voldemort sending him on a suicide mission, or Mifune setting him up to take the fall for the Yakuza in Japan.   
  
His pulse was racing by the time he got into the bullpen, and not just from how he'd fled here. He had the feeling that what he had with Potter was real, that it must have made him happy and somehow, even in his muddled mind, it almost felt as if they had willed it. They were two sides of the same coin-- both arrogant in their own ways, intense, powerful and always stalking one another. Even when he'd set aside his childish rivalry in their sixth year, Harry had picked the game right back up, following Draco and spying on him.   
  
Secretly, Draco had been chuffed by the role reversal-- until it became such a huge inconvenience, anyway.  
  
The bullpen was eerily quiet, as if a huge storm had rolled in, casting a dark cloud over the usually jovial and caustic room. Draco was tempted to ask who died until Harry hopped up from his desk, brows furrowed, green eyes practically glowing with fury. A few paper plane memos darted towards him until they got a sense of his aura, and then they flitted away to sit on his desk for later.  
  
Harry's eyes widened when he saw Draco and before Draco could even say a word, Harry was on him, fingers digging into his biceps. "I thought you were staying home," Harry growled, obviously trying to contain himself and failing as the light guttered in the office.   
  
In the face of this anger, Draco almost cowered. He'd seen Harry angry loads of times in school, but this was different. This was the anger and hurt and fury of heartbreak piled up on having someone clearly accountable for it. "Did you find Lockhart?" asked Draco, as if he weren't flinching in Harry's grip.  
  
"I... well, I've a good lead on where he is," said Harry. Now he was avoiding Draco's eyes and Draco couldn't help but feel something for him, a flicker of thought like a vapor of the past, curling into his consciousness.  
  
"I doubt he knows anything, Harry. He didn't know how to restore his own memories," said Draco. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell Harry who the real culprit was, but Harry already looked so upset, so hurt. He wanted someone to blame and he had his scapegoat. Adding another wouldn't really help anyone.  
  
Plus, he already felt guilty enough for not returning Theo's feelings in the least, and he had the feeling that at some points he'd probably led him on. He hated that he might've brought this on himself, but at the moment, he couldn't see another way around it.  
  
"I think he remembers more than he lets on," Harry huffed, but he was diffusing with Draco there and Draco took the opportunity to wriggle away from his grabbing hands and, after a furtive look around the office to note that everyone was pointedly  _not_  looking at them, he slipped his arms around Harry's waist and pulled him closer.  
  
At first, Harry stiffened at the touch, but then melted into it, hiding his face against Draco's neck. Draco slipped a hand up to cradle the back of his head, caressing his fingers through the thick, wiry hair. It was familiar-not-familiar to the touch, and he puzzled over the not!memory, unsure of how he could place this, or if it needed placing beyond just experiencing. "You don't really believe that," Draco whispered against his ear and Harry shook his head in protest.  
  
"You don't have to do this," Harry said after a few moments of holding Draco back, his arms so possessively around Draco that it took his breath away.  
  
This was what it was like to be held by Harry Potter, to be needed this much. Draco pressed his cheek to Harry's temple, wondering if it was something simple like this that had made him fall in love with him in the first place. "I know I don't have to. I don't do most things because I have to. I'm still a Malfoy... right?"  
  
The doubt in his voice inspired a bitter laugh from Harry, who pulled back and cupped Draco's face in his hands. He smiled, but his eyes were intensely focused. Never had Draco felt so completely owned, so needed and necessary to another person. He loved that for once he could feel indispensable to someone for something other than being a pawn.   
  
Harry nodded. "Yes, you hadn't quite picked out a white wedding dress yet."  
  
Before Draco could stop it, he said, "I think we both know I couldn't wear white."  
  
He blushed then and Harry smiled, stroking his cheek, looking incredibly sad. "At least you remember that much. But look, I should follow up on this lead before the trail goes cold."  
  
Harry started to move away from him, but Draco caught his hand and yanked him back, looking into his eyes. He didn't know what he wanted, only that he really didn't want Harry to go running off. Not right now. Not when he didn't know what he felt or why he felt these things.  
  
"No. Stay. Stay with me," said Draco.   
  
After looking at the exit, Harry looked back at Draco, the indecision clear on his face.   
  
"Please, Harry. I don't know... I don't know how... but he won't have the answers. We both know that. I just don't want you to leave right now. Please?" Draco didn't think he'd said please that much ever, but then, he couldn't remember much about their sex life. He blushed a little, wondering if Harry made him beg. If anyone could...  
  
The thoughts must've been written on his face, because Harry was blushing too, and he moved in closer, clearing his throat. "If you're going to look at me like that... you know I... okay, well, no, you probably don't know. But let's just say that if you want me to stay... that look's a good one to get me to." Harry shifted his weight to his other foot, looking almost coy after what he'd just said.  
  
Draco flicked back his hair, well aware that he was flirting, and finding that it thrilled him to be flirting with Harry Potter, which he hadn't expected, but now that he was evidently retracing his steps, he didn't feel quite so slutty about it. "Maybe you should come home with me and find out what this look leads to."   
  
As easy as that, Harry was sold on the idea of going back to Draco's flat. Draco had the feeling it probably wasn't quite  _that_  easy and that Harry might try to shag and run, but he'd cross that bridge when they came to it.  
  
\--  
  
Draco could only barely remember how it came to this. At first they were walking through the Ministry corridors awkwardly, Draco trying to make a plan for what he could say and what he should say and things that he just didn't think would help Harry or anyone if he told. In that category was what Theo had done. Draco would have never given anyone else that kind of leeway, least of all another Slytherin, but he thought that perhaps Theo was just lonely and broken and would do better to just meet someone than be pummeled by Potter. All of the awkward thoughts and uncertain brushes of their hands ended when they stepped into the lift to get up to Draco's flat. Harry pushed him against the wall and kissed him deeply, passionately, claiming his tongue, his mouth. His hand slid down the curve of Draco's back and grabbed his arse.  
  
In response, Draco's hips snapped forward, pressing his cock against Harry's greedily, even though he had no idea why he was so greedy about it. But suddenly, all he could think of was fucking Harry Potter, being inside of him, being part of him. Draco practically lunged at him, hooking a foot on the rail of the lift and pressing Harry's back against the mirrored steel behind them.  
  
Harry seemed more than a little surprised by this reaction, but he was loath to turn down sex of any stripe. He unbuttoned Draco's robes, tearing a few of the fussy buttons but he didn't seem to care about that. Not even Draco cared about his couture getting mucked up. What he wanted was a taste of the future, a taste of his past-- a taste of Harry Potter.   
  
He knew that he had theoretically done this before, but the only memories he really had of it now were vague. He wasn't sure if that was to do with the spell or if he was just trying to forget it. Not that it mattered, not that he cared when Harry shoved his hand between the fabric and slipped them through, teasing his cock just the way he liked.   
  
Harry had one hand around his cock; the other was above the head of his prick. Draco loved that, loved how Harry took the initiative to rub his balls as well and he wondered where he'd learned it, except... The whole thing was too sad to deal with right now, particularly since Harry had caught his breath and slammed Draco to the other side of the wall, holding his arms up over his head as he kissed and nipped down his neck and down his chest. Harry was on his knees and Draco was starting to beg when the doors dinged and rolled open.  
  
They were on Draco's floor and Draco was so lost in kissing Harry, in feeling him rubbing against him that all he wanted to do was to get into bed and shrug off his clothes.  
  
Draco was mostly undressed by the time the got through the doors, somehow disarming the wards but then... he remembered Harry had a key. Wards were down for him. Right.  
  
Harry pushed him through the entryway, past the open kitchen and into his bedroom. Draco was down on his back on the bed before he could even remember to ask his guest if he wanted a drink. It was all right, it was pretty obvious that a drink wasn't what Harry was there for. Harry was there for him, to feel this-- something that he'd probably done so many times before only now, Draco didn't remember.   
  
Wriggling out of the fabric, Draco brought his arm up to cover his face, spreading his legs for Harry to take him.  
  
"Don't even remember me and you've still got a greedy little hole that wants me, don't you?" asked Harry. Draco heard Harry's clothes rustling as he undressed. He was glad he'd covered his face, because the blush that would have occurred at seeing Harry Potter starkers would've killed him.   
  
"We did this... like this?" asked Draco, brows furrowed. Not that he thought this was a bad thing, he'd just expected different of Harry.  
  
"No, it's not really how we did it. It's..." Harry didn't finish the sentence. Instead he was rifling through Draco's nightstand till he found the tube of lubricant. He smeared the lubricant over his fingers and while Draco remembered rationally that he'd had sex before, he wasn't sure he was mentally prepared for it now.   
  
Either way, Harry's prick was rubbing against his hole, teasing him. It was so warm and slick and it felt big. Not huge in a crazy sense, but bigger than he thought it would be. He held his breath as Harry entered him, feeling every inch of Harry's cock sliding into him, feeling all of the things Harry wanted him to feel: sprawled out, clenched around him, like he was being forced to make space for Harry in his body the way he knew Harry wanted him to make space for him in his life.  
  
Harry stretched out over him, pressing their chests together and continued to ease into him, slowly relaxing to a comfortable pace of deep fucking. Draco stretched his arms out, fisting the sheets and Harry's fingers twined with Draco's, giving the impression that Harry wanted to share this pain, to feel this with him.  
  
Draco pushed back as best he could, but Harry was so deep inside of him, touching Draco in places he couldn't remember ever being touched by anyone or anything. It felt like he was deeper inside of him than he had been during their random work fucks. Harry pushed Draco's leg up, folding him in half, asserting that it would feel better at this angle.   
  
Draco allowed it, finding the pressure both incredibly thrilling and painful. The feeling overwhelmed Draco, making him believe that Harry was a being of love, beautiful. His mate. His soul mate. Draco gave himself over to it, ignoring the sounds of their sex to concentrate on how this felt. Harry was fucking him hard and he had the idea he hadn't always been this passionate or needy with him before this.   
  
As much as Draco wanted to say something to Harry, he couldn't catch his breath to speak, let alone put anything important into words, so he remained quiet, pushing back against him, feeling warm, unusually warm, like he was becoming something else-- an ancient form. He glowed that way for a few minutes until he came, Harry still driving into him. It felt wild and wicked, something feral being let loose inside of him as wave after wave of the sensation hit him. His muscles tensed and pushed out his release between them and when he opened his eyes, he saw everything with such utter clarity that he knew he'd changed into that  _thing_.  
  
Though he was burning with shame at the creature he'd morphed into, everything was now in sharp focus. The shadows spoke whispers and echoes of past involvements played out before him-- Mifune-- Japan-- Pirates-- Bubbles-- Kirley Duke-- Glam rock-- Not!Granger and Ron's braces. He looked down at the way his arm was glowing, knowing that his eyes must've turned that milky color, his hair must be silver and Harry was seeing it all spread out below him. As embarrassed as he was for what he looked like, as exposed as he felt, he was suddenly incredibly grateful for what he was.  
  
Memories flooded into his mind, because magic didn't affect magical creatures, and now that Harry had unleashed the Veela part of him, the memories that part of him held were coming back like the falling rain of a second consciousness. Draco wanted to hide this form, but when he chanced a glance at Harry and saw him gazing back down at him, he saw nothing but love and admiration. Draco felt accepted, and perhaps, just a little bit, that Harry's a bit of a pervert for liking his not quite human side.   
  
Then he felt that cold, final question, the burden of Harry wanting to live with him and him wanting it so much, but being far too scared to really take it. Draco didn't want to move things along too quickly. He wanted to slow it down, to really find himself, and yet, due to events beyond his control, he'd rather dramatically lost himself.   
  
Harry was coming inside of him and Draco clung to him, scratching his back, feeling himself returning to his own body and his own mind and the way that the memories fitted themselves back into his mental timeline, like puzzle pieces found under a couch that finally complete the picture.   
  
Draco sighed in bliss as Harry flopped on top of him and stroked his silky back, still going over each part of what he knew now, checking for faults or weaknesses as Harry caught his breath.   
  
"All right, Draco?" Harry asked against his neck.  
  
Draco stroked the back of his head, smiling. "Better than all right."  
  
"I sort of... well, I mean, I don't mean to be cocky but I saw you um... well..." Harry stuttered.  
  
Draco smiled slightly, pleased that Harry had sense enough to realize that the Veela part of him made him uncomfortable, even if it was what Wizardkind considered an "acceptable" bestial conversion. "Became a frightening animal?"  
  
"You're not an animal. You're human, it's just... a bonus," said Harry.  
  
"Kinky bugger!" said Draco as Harry rolled off of him and Draco rolled onto his side so they could tangle up together. "Did you do it on purpose?"  
  
"Erm..." said Harry, looking shiftily like he didn't know what Draco might be talking about, "I didn't slip and fall into your arse, if that's what you mean."  
  
Draco laughed and rolled his eyes. "No, I mean... were you that rough so that I'd... so that would happen?"  
  
"I... er... well... why do you ask?"  
  
Harry was being cagey and Draco shook his head. The boy was lucky, if nothing else. He could see now how Harry had survived all of those years with Death Eaters and Voldemort after him. He just followed his instincts and it led him to the right place. This time, Draco benefited. "Because magic doesn't affect magical creatures," said Draco meaningfully.  
  
He watched the realization dawn on Harry's face and turn to elation and Draco thought it was quite possibly the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. "Oh! So you..."  
  
"Remember everything," said Draco, smiling as he caressed Harry's cheek.   
  
"I'm still going to kick Lockhart's arse," said Harry. Draco sighed, wondering if he should try and explain, but he was far too weary to really get into it. He wanted to revel in the feeling of knowing, and this brilliant afterglow.  
  
"Yes, well, I don't see the point, really. There are other things to get on with," said Draco, smoothing back Harry's hair.  
  
"What if he tries to do it again? We have to find the reason for this and make him pay for it. He can't be running around kidnapping people from foreign lands and putting them in underwater bubbles. We also can't tolerate him showing up at Auror's flats and erasing their memories for no good reason!" said Harry. His impassioned speech had caused him to flush with righteous indignation.   
  
Draco really didn't know what to say to it, and part of him still felt protective of Theo and his feelings, even if he didn't return them. He was at a loss until inspiration hit.  
  
"We're going to be busy for a while moving my things into Grimmauld, I'd expect. Then one of us will probably have to find a new job..." said Draco.   
  
"WHAT?" Harry sat up on his knees, his eyes wide, hair jumbled and glasses still slightly foggy on his face. "Really?"  
  
"It would be safer," Draco reasoned. He further reasoned that if he lived with Harry, Theo couldn't watch them and get jealous. Grimmauld was Unplottable. "And, I did live there before. And... Lockhart couldn't get at me there, so there wouldn't be a huge rush..."  
  
Harry looked at him expectantly. "And you love me?"  
  
Draco grabbed Harry by the waist and pulled him back down on top of him. "I love you very much." He was a little worried on how this would work out in reality, but then, he was very much in love with Harry and Harry in love with him and their one twu lub was trufax according to the Sleeping Beauty hex, so... "And I want to live with you."  
  
When Harry was so beside himself with joy that he wriggled and pressed kisses all over Draco's face, Draco felt a sudden and complete calm. This was the right decision. This would make them both happy. He hoped.   
  
It wasn't going to make Kingsley happy, that was for sure.  
  
Or Theodore.  
  
Or... all of the screaming heterosexual fans of Harry Potter.   
  
Stuff 'em.  
  
"You want to live with me," said Harry, like it was a revelation. He beamed and pushed Draco's hair back, gazing into his eyes. "It'll be like we're family."  
  
Something in Draco melted at that phrase, because he was an orphan now, too. He nodded and smiled. "Yeah, like family."   
  
"I love you, Draco," said Harry.  
  
Draco smirked. "You're such a girl, Potter, I swear!"  
  
Without hesitation, Harry had grabbed Draco's arm and pulled it up behind him, manhandling Draco onto his stomach. Draco whined and pouted into his pillow. Harry didn't have his arm up enough for it to really hurt, but Draco got the message. "Fine, fine, I love you, too,  _P_ otter."  
  
Draco felt his arm pulled up and his shoulder twinged.   
  
"What was that?" asked Harry.  
  
"I love you too, Harry!" he said loudly into his pillow.  
  
"That's what I thought." Harry rolled off of him and flopped onto the bed next to Draco again. "Git."  
  
"Half-blood," said Draco as he rolled over and nursed his arm.   
  
"Ickle Baby." Harry reached across to rub Draco's shoulder and pulled him closer. "You'll live with me and I can take care of you."  
  
Draco cuddled in against his chest. "You'd better take care of me if you're going to be abusive, you brute."  
  
He felt Harry's laughing and sighed contentedly. They were going to live together. For real this time. He had no idea what he was going to say to the Ministry about it, but he could figure that out later. Right now, he was just going to enjoy this. 


End file.
